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akimmito · 4 years

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Heroes are made by the path they choose

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Master List

Chapter 14

Silent Hill: Something happened, I'll take someone over for Marie to judge

Needle: Ah, what was missing

It’s a Nara: Don't sleep, there is an Akuma

It’s a Nara: Who is Available?

Almost Pretty: This Akuma itself is causing disaster

Needle: There goes the national library

It's a Nara: Who is Available?

Perfect Crime: We are at the airport, we can escape to the bathroom. Just tell us, Kanté

It’s a Nara: Perfect

Aithusa: I'm ready, Max.

Wild goat: I'll go! I'm available

Olive: You have communications, don't be ridiculous

Almost Pretty: I can't escape the Bourbon Palace for this, we are being evacuated to the basement

------

Ateliade, Jade Shield, LadyNoir and Rakkīgāru are on the ruins of the national library, the last place that al Akuma ruthlessly destroyed. Observing the damage and trying to understand how he did it, the cameras failed to capture the attack, they just watched as the building collapsed on its own. A troublesome situation.

"Rakkīgāru, use the Lucky Charm."

Kagami obeys immediately, the Lucky Charm delivers a candle similar to the ones she has placed in the meditation room. The four heroes look at the object with curiosity, its function is totally unknown to them, but somehow they understand that what they need at the moment is in the MT.

"We need a more thorough evaluation. Mures?"

"Yes, LadyNoir?"

"Come here, we will use the mouse to try to identify your abilities from all possible angles. "

"Ok."

"Maybe that's what the Lucky Charm was referring to." Ateliade offers her opinion on this, looking at the candle. After all, Marc is on the MT, but neither Kagami nor Marinette feel that is the case. Surely they will need the specific abilities of some Kwami that is not being used, their instincts are screaming at them.

Before long, Mures appears in all his nervous figure. It's the first time that he will go out into the field like the mouse, he's more used to his vigilante suit, but he's confident that everything will turn out well.

"Let's follow the Akuma."

At Jade Shield's words, the five heroes move to follow the Akuma's trail of destruction. When they see the purple Dolphin flying over The Turkish Consulate General and they are suddenly aware that they are now in District XVII where most Embassies and Consulates are. That could be a problem if it reaches international ears, endangering citizens of other countries. They can already hear Chloe yelling at them for speeding up, they don't want anyone from outside sticking their noses into something they don't understand.

"Multitude. "Marc activates its power and divides himself into five copies of himself, remaining in a size similar to that of a child. Each duplicate goes in different directions, each hero follows a different one while the main one remains in place to serve as backup.

Marc can see from their different perspectives the way power works, there is no way they can get closer without perishing like buildings. The others don't fully understand him, but he does.

The Akuma seems to detonate its powers through a form of echo location, similar to what bats do, only instead of just directing it around the place, it also causes perfectly directed destruction, if they get close they will be hit and probably killed. It's inconspicuous from the directions you see, but it's enough.

If there was ever any doubt that the new villain wanted them dead, this new Akuma victim is proof that this is the case.

"We need one of two, someone who can demonstrate directly in front of the Akuma or someone in armor to withstand the impact of the echo location."

"Is that?"

"It's the closest I could discern."

"We need Tunin." Kagami suggests, it's better not to trust again and the Dragon's abilities are easily used over long distances, they wouldn't even be exposing the child.

"Yes…"

"It's done. Equuleus, bring Tunin to the field. ”Felix smiles, sure Damian will be ecstatic with the news. Since the first attack Akuma has wanted to leave and although there have only been two before that, they had not wanted to risk it yet.

Quickly, the boy appears next to LadyNoir and when he sees his mother, he feels guilty. Running away to find Constantine doesn't count as betraying her trust, does it? He may think that even she should have considered it, although perhaps what should bothers her is that he blackmailed Plagg.

"Something happens?"Marinette asks her little boy, who doesn't seem fully prepared, although his amber eyes seem to reflect something else.

"No mother. What should I do?"

"Can you simulate a storm, baby dragon?" Ateliade questions, if they can confuse the echo location (as Mures calls it) she can release her power and allow them to attack to obtain the Akumatized item, although it cannot be seen which one. Guessing is not much fun.

"Something happens?"Marinette asks her little boy, who doesn't seem fully prepared, although his amber eyes seem to reflect something else.

"No mother. What should I do?"

"Yes, two of the abilities are combined. It's harder, but if I just have to do that, it'll be fine.”He says with conviction.

Jade Shield moves to take people out of the Akuma's path, who cannot fully escape. Rakkīgāru unites to help, as long as they are not sure that their little plan works, they should avoid casualties as best they can.

Damian draws his sword and begins to move in parallel with the Akuma, at a good distance while concentrating on the two abilities he wants to activate at the same time. He can do it only because he's stubborn and his mother was helping him with every step, he wanted to be able to be a real help to fight alongside miraculous adult users and for that he needed to make an effort. As he tries to muster his energies for that, he better understands why his mother insisted so much that not yet, but done or not, it's his time.

"Tunin! Now or never."

He growls at Ateliade's words, but activates his powers.

"Dragon of Air and Lightning. "

Damian disappears to make way for a thick black cloud of storm that spreads around the Akuma, the lightning moves through the clouds and attacks the Violet Dolphin, which he barely dodges due to the interferences that the sound makes in his abilities... In addition to the poor vision that it has is frustrated by the intense light intervals that the rushing rays generate.

It really is a storm.

-----

Bruce Wayne is Batman

I can jump from eighth floor and survive: Paris has strange creatures.

Hell rejected me: What kind of strange creatures? Metas?

I can jump from eight floor and survive: No... it's a bat-winged dolphin that destroys everything in its path. And there are the heroes they mentioned!

I'll rest when I die: Is it real?

I can read your mind with a single glance: Are they the heroes and not the vigilantes?

I can ump from eight floor and survive: Yup, it's the heroes. Although they are still while talking.

I’m not Batman: I want a report.

I'll rest when I die: Your interest in our safety is flattering

-----

"Oh God! The boy just turned into a storm! How?! Where's the point in all of this?!"Dick almost has the jaw in the ground when seeing how the hero boy vanishes in a black cloud that begins to flash and cover the strange creature.

Everything is being televised with drones, according to the presenter. It also features the new hero, who is registered as part of the Team.

"Tunin is the current owner of the Miraculous Dragon, it was entered into the official register two months ago. His abilities are much more polished than previous Miraculous user Ryukko, demonstrating much more training. Despite his young age in relation to other heroes, we can be sure that he's trustworthy. He has already demonstrated this by displaying new skills and a great mastery of his powers. "

Tim watches with too worrying ease, still holding his cup of coffee, but he seems to pay little attention to what the newscaster has said.

He doesn't blame him, the situation seems to come out of a dream, with the same little sense.

He doesn't lose attention to what happens, they are far enough so that what happens is only barely visible through the window, but the view from the drone is very accurate. Soon another hero, the presenter calls her Ateliade, activates another power and a dragon stuffed toy falls into her hands, she and LadyNoir (the leader, according to what they said) put themselves in position taking advantage of the fact that the Akuma is too busy dealing with the cloud storm.

"It seems we managed to capture Rakkīgāru and Jade Shield as well, helping civilians to get out of the Akuma's path." Indeed, the two heroes move through the streets picking up people from the probable routes of the Giant Dolphin. "Mures remains on the sidelines, he seems to be fulfilling the role of watchman. Like Tunin, it's his first appearance. He has been registered as an official part of the team for six years, he's the second user of the Miraculous Mouse, after Multimouse with a single appearance ten years ago. "

Dick is surprised to learn that information, ten years ago? Since when is Paris dealing with this villain? Maybe he should go to the prosecution and the KanTech offices to find out the information required to know the matter.

"Dick..."

"Hmm?"

"Am I dreaming?"

"No."

"I'll leave the caffeine." Tim puts the cup on the table in front of him and takes his computer to start investigating, having his location in Paris, the information about the Akuma begin to appear. "Eleven years ago Hawkmoth first appeared and with him two heroes: Ladybug and Chat Noir. As time went by more heroes appeared and rotated, before Gabriel Agreste was arrested for being Hawkmoth, Paris was left alone with three heroes: Ladybug, Chat Noir and Vulpes. Chat Noir turned out to be the son of the villain, who was devastated and gave up being a hero... "

"What?" Dick stops watching television, missing the exact moment the Akuma goes crazy and its echo location loses the destructive effect because he can't focus enough for it.

"This is a summary of what happened seven years ago. The Butterfly Miraculous was stolen by the killer of Nathalie Sancour, the previous user of the Peacock. That Miraculous returned to the hands of Ladybug... Graham de Vanely spearheaded the lawsuit against Gabriel Agreste and Adrien was forced to marry Lila Rossi to keep his mother alive, as the heroes investigate a cure for the magical coma..."

"How did they manage to hide ALL THAT from the world?"

"Magic." Tim growls, that's the main reason, then with the joint efforts of different government bodies they became self-sufficient in it, making laws that allowed Parisian heroes and vigilantes to run freely making them an official identity within the country, but without being linked to it. How did it evolve to that point? Not even in the United States, with the acceptance of the heroes in the country, have they managed to do something like this... Will the French be more intelligent or are they much more paranoid? Because there is a complete security protocol so that the information does not come out.

They are so in jail just for mentioning all that to their family.

"We can't give that report to B... or come out as Robin and Nightwing."

"Should we register?" "Tim nods, but as far as he knows, only the MT can register heroes or vigilantes and for that they would need to contact them and give a good excuse for their visit." Everything is very well detailed, the theme of the vigilantes is not super secret like heroes. It's illegal to mention them on social networks outside the jurisdiction of France and word of mouth would not be credible because there is no information available. "

"Rakkigaru launches the cure!" The television distracts them again and they are surprised, again, to see how all the damage begins to repair itself and return to its original state.

"W-What…?

"It's one of the Miraculous Ladybug powers... it's one of the few skills that are publicly known and accurately described. The rest appear as: doubtful or not precise. "

"Do you think they are handling it well?"

"Yes... according to what Felix Graham de Vanely said, half of the evidence he presented was offered by the heroes of Paris and was, precisely, the most incriminating. Seven years have passed and they have the support of the MT, which have cleaned up the country's organized crime very well and have followed several very difficult cases that they have managed to manage... They have a more brilliant list of achievements than ours. You know, the Joker escaping Arkham every month is a stain on our record. ”Tim laughs a little when he says it. He would like to know their methods, although he suspects that they must have a network of informants, something that they have not used much because in Gotham it's unlikely to find trustworthy people, only Jason got several informants, but they have not reached more than that.

"Then let's just say hello."

"And let's seek to join that information network."

Tim sets that goal, to be part of that vigilant circle to which the MT belongs.

-----

Vivian @ LadyLuck_08

I loved Tunin's debut, will his hair be naturally long?

Leonor @Scar_FullMLeo

Did you see Mures? He's so cute

Ladybug comeback @ LadybugHero_89

It took a round hour to stop the Akuma. New record.

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

Finally! I hate the basement. Who was the smart one who decided that it would be a good Akuma refuge?

#maribat #dickinette #dick x marinette #mominette #ml x dc

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reynesofcastamere · 4 years

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Thrown Gauntlet[Ω]

(A/N: Sooooo....I’ve decided to start another series of fics that I will be marking with [Ω] in the titles: To disinguish them from both the main series (which I am still working on) and the [β] drabbles (which are all over the place in terms of timeline, setting, universe, etc.). Essentially a very self-indulgent AU where Savage, Maul, and Feral all get adopted by Clan Wren. This installment takes place in 20 BBY, so Ahsoka is around 16 and Maul is about 34. However. I want to state outright that the dynamic is intended to be a verrrrry slow build and that nothing romantic and/or sexual will be occurring between Maul and Ahsoka until MUCH later. If what I’ve described does not sound like your personal cup of tea, then by all means, feel free to give this fic and/or series a pass. This is getting a bit long, so to sum up: No trigger warnings, Obi-Wan is an Incurable Flirt, Rex is Flustered, and Maul is about 100% Done With Everyone’s Nonsense. Unbeta’d) The Jedi Temple is buzzing. Not literally, of course, but Ahsoka can feel a strange vibration in the Force. Excitement, or maybe irritation? There’s definitely quite a bit more whispering amongst her fellow Jedi and the clone troopers she passes on her path to the east hangar. Master Anakin had told her to pack for a long trip, which she can only assume means they’ve been assigned another mission and he’s withholding the details so as to ‘surprise’ her appropriately. Typical Skyguy.

She spots Rex near the door, sans helmet. “Good morning, Captain.” A proper salute, quickly returned, though her tone is light. “Morning, Commander. And-er, yes, it certainly is.” He actually seems to be fidgeting a bit, and his face- “Rex, are you...blushing?” “N-no. No. Just-ah...Finished up my workout routine. Took more out of me than I expected. You know how it is; One day you’re all shiny-new and the next you feel older than General Yoda.” “Reeeeexxxx....Come on, whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

“The Clawbirds arrived about an hour ago. Captain Wren’s refusing to do much of anything until he finishes repairs on General Skywalker’s ship.” Rex caves, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Master Anakin can’t be too happy about that.” Ahsoka observes, knowing just how...particular he is about his personal projects. “Should I be worried?” “Er...maybe? It’s kind of a toss-up. Depends on whether M-” He begins, before a subtler voice cuts in. “Captain, there you are. I was hoping to speak to you.” The speaker is a male Zabrak with soft golden-yellow eyes and skin, the latter of which is liberally patterned in brown markings. Unusual enough, but he’s also clad in full Mandalorian armor, helmet tucked under one arm and carrying what looks like field medic gear along with the standard jetpack and arsenal of weapons. And he’s glowing; a defined Force signature radiating Light and positive energy like a solar lamp. How-? “Medic Sergeant Wren. They are still getting along, right?” “Oh yes. He’s in a much better mood than last time. Apologies, am I interrupting?” “Thank the Maker. And no, um. Commander Tano, this is Medic Sergeant Feral Wren.” Rex looks like he’s in danger of heatstroke with how red he’s gotten. It’s not hard to see why, especially when Feral gives a smile that could melt half the ice on Bahryn. Rather than salute her, he stretches his right hand out so that they can clasp forearms briefly, a greeting from one warrior to another. “It’s a pleasure, Medic Sergeant.” She smiles back. Ahsoka can’t help it. He’s just...She’s fighting the urge to hug him like some kind of stuffed animal toy. Which is bizarre and will most definitely not be happening anytime soon. “Tano...Oh, you must be ‘Snips’. It’s almost a shame Savage volunteered to help the younglings train, we’ve both wanted to meet you for some time now.” Wait, what? “Tranyc’vod [Sunny(star-burned) brother] Anakin hasn’t been able to call as often, but he’s very proud of your accomplishments.” Feral remarks, genuinely pleased even as her head spins with the implications. Her Master has a lot of explaining to do. “Speaking of which, I’d better not keep him waiting much longer. I look forward to talking to you again, though. See you later, Captain. Maybe you should ask the Medic Sergeant about those stamina issues you’re having?” She can’t resist ribbing Rex as she departs, watching him splutter as Feral, like any good medic, starts making inquiries about his ‘condition’ while looking him over. And placing a hand on his chestplate, apparently. Huh. Maybe her friend’s obvious crush isn’t quite as one-sided as she’d thought. Ahsoka navigates her way through the semi-organized rows of ships. Even if Anakin’s presence in the Force wasn’t abnormally strong, she doesn’t need to focus to find him. Not when he’s talking loud enough to be heard across half the hangar. “-last time, it’s fine! You’re just being paranoid, as usual.” “Every ship I have been forced to borrow from you has either crashed, suffered a critical malfunction, or was confined to the scrap heap mere hours after landing. No one is setting a foot on this poorly-constructed death trap until I am absolutely certain it won’t spontaneously combust mid-flight.” And that must be Captain Wren. He sounds...irritated, to say the least.

“My ships run perfectly, thanks. Must hurt that Mando pride, knowing a Jedi is a better pilot and mechanic than you, Captain.” She’s not quite within visual range yet, but she knows her Master is smirking. “How sad that as a Jedi, you cannot recognize your own failings, General. Perhaps you should conduct a survey of your ‘victims’ instead of this poor attempt at distraction. Mir’osik adiik be’kyorla hut’uun![Dung for brains child of (a) rotten coward!]-” “Ouch. What, did one of your horns get caught in the hydraulics?” “Hilarious. Make yourself useful by grabbing a towel, or something from Kenobi’s closet. I’m coming out.” “Ah, Captain Wren. I thought the general ambience had improved. What were you saying about my clothing?” She hadn’t been aware of Master Kenobi’s presence before this. Either he’d used a secondary entrance or had been waiting for his chance to join the exchange while the captain was busy. “Kenobi.”

“Oh come now, surely you can muster a more polite greeting than that. You’ve been away so long I’ve had to listen to recordings just to remember the sound of your lovely voice.” “Perhaps I will address you with respect when you learn to stop leering at me, besom [ill-mannered lout].” “Busted. Again.” “You’re not helping, Anakin.” Ahsoka rounds a corner and-Oh. Wow. How far down do those-? She blinks a few times, just to be sure of what she’s seeing. Yep, there is a very shirtless Zabrak with the kind of muscle definition that would make scores of artists weep standing with his back to her and wiping his face off with a towel. She desperately hopes that her jaw is not hanging open as he turns his head to survey her with one vibrant yellow tourmaline eye. She honestly doesn’t know if she wants to draw closer or back away in that moment. His presence in the Force is not a benevolent, harmless light, but rather a controlled fire that sparks and issues dark threads of smoke. This...Ahsoka doesn’t understand what is going on, and it’s starting to make her uncomfortable. “The spy finally shows herself.” He remarks, assessing and dismissing her as a non-threat within the span of a few seconds, continuing to wipe off whatever type of mess had been spattered on him. “Don’t mind him, Snips. Someone shoved a shock baton up his ass years ago and the medics never found a way to pull it out. Tragic, really.” Anakin Skywalker grins, arms loosely folded across his chest and leaning against the outside of his ship. “Ahsoka, this is Maul. We’ll be working with him and his people for the forseeable future.” It clicks suddenly where she’s heard both his name and that of his group before: Captain Maul of Clan Wren and his company are the only Mandalorian supercommandos who will actually work with the Jedi Council. At least, when they’re not busy with bodyguard or mercenary jobs. Part of that involves what is referred to -with some awe and a lot of fear- as ‘running the gauntlet’, a mandatory training course for any Padawans or Knights posted to or intending to spend a considerable amount of time in the barely-civilized regions of space. It’s been suspended since the war started in earnest, but if they’re going to be sticking around for a while...Well, the implications are pretty serious. And Ahsoka has somehow managed to ogle one of the most infamous hardasses this side of the Mid Rim. Fantastic. Really. Maul disposes of the stained towel and turns to face her properly, Ahsoka’s gaze staying determinedly on his face as they grip each other’s right forearms. He doesn’t pull back after a few seconds as Feral had, hand locking in place as he seems to peer into her soul. “I will say this once. We are not like our evaar’la vod’e[young brothers]. We are not subservient to you, and I do not accept excuses or blatant disrespect.” A pause and a slight increase in pressure, just below the threshold of inflicting pain. “Are you ready, Ahsoka Tano?” “Yes, Captain.” She answers with a certainty that she can feel in her very bones, and is rewarded with the hint of a wry smile when he lets go. Well that’s...something. Master Kenobi clears his throat pointedly. Right. Mission briefing first. Sort out her feelings later. Still, she can’t help but look forward to whatever comes next. (A/N: *cracks knuckles* Well, that’s the first installment. A little vague on the details, but I’m hoping to elaborate on what’s been hinted at here relatively soon. The name of the supercommando company comes from the Legends novel Maul:Lockdown by Joe Schreiber. And yes, for fellow Rebels fans who are reading this thing: In this AU, Sabine and Tristan get three badass Zabrak-hybrid uncles and a fair amount of adopted cousins. (Which is entirely Savage’s doing.) I do believe that Anakin is a gifted mechanic, but also couldn’t resist the running joke of ‘Skywalker’s ships/anything he tinkers with only work for him and Artoo’. Cheers!)

#maulsoka #eventually #tbh this one is pretty gen aside from minor feral/rex and obi-wan failing his seduction roll #for like the hundredth time

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ocean-in-my-rebel-soul · 5 years

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Striking a Bargain

A commission for @kittenmarsh ! Thank you for your order, it was so pleasant to work with you! :)

Anders is on the run and finds himself in trouble... and in Flemeth's sights.

Characters: Anders, Flemeth, an unnamed daughter of Flemeth

Rating: T

Tags: past harm to Anders, but he gets better it’s okay, references to blood, post-DA2,

Words: 1,578

Read it on AO3!

He wakes up in bits and spurts, the Fade clinging desperately to his mind.

Sound, Anders registers first. Crackling leaves rattle the frayed edges of his consciousness like warning bells. Somewhere someone murmurs, the words garbled and indistinct. Soft footsteps draw near.

Touch, too, comes, in its own time. Fabric that chafes against raw skin. Gravity pressing him against the earth. The weight of his tongue in his mouth, how his hands curl at his side. Something burns along his abdomen when he shifts and he bites his lip; the barest touch of teeth on chapped, split skin is more violent than any Templar’s blade.

Blood trickles, and soon taste bludgeons its way to the forefront for recognition. Elemental iron, coppery and tangy and brackish on his tongue. The way the air has dried his mouth to rival the blight-born Anderfellan deserts.

“You’re awake. Good.” A voice. Someone is with him—Hawke? Not Hawke, no; Hawke stayed in Kirkwall, had armed him with the coat off their back and their own prized dagger and a threat-laced plea never to return.

He groans, throat hoarse from disuse, or perhaps overuse. He isn’t sure, it just aches in soul-deep agony.

“Wh—who…” He briefly tries to open his eyes, only to be met by a wave of nausea that crawls up his gullet like a demon. They close.

“Girl, the flask.”

“Yes, Flem—mother,” a second voice says.

Another sense kicks into gear: panic.

His heart creeps into his throat as he’s lifted by the shoulders, and whatever burned in his belly flares like the lava that floods the darkened floors of the Deep Roads. A bitten-off scream tears from his throat.

“Dramatic,” the first voice says, closer now, and he can’t bring himself to open his eyes to look. A flask is roughly pressed to his lips and dribbles water into his arid mouth, and he only saves himself from drowning when his throat convulses on instinct at the intrusion.

“Look at me, boy,” she says, the order clear, and he does when a hand grips his chin to force his face up.

She’s no different than when he laid eyes on her years ago, even though she wavers and splits into two before him. Eerie amber eyes peer dispassionately at his face, framed by the thick burnished metal headpiece at her brow. Her hair still rises like dragonbone from her face, somehow part of and separate still from her warrior’s crown. Her lips twist in a cruel smile.

“Flemeth,” Anders breathes, voice thin as a river reed as it scratches over his tongue. His gut quakes at her nearness.

“The very same.” Her eyes dart over his head, and she releases his chin. The flask returns and he is no better prepared the second time.

His gaze never leaves her.

“You remember me. Good. I enjoy people with their wits about them.”

She struts away and Anders tilts his head back to look up at the other woman, who eyes him with those same uninterested amber eyes. Another daughter, then? Or is this the one she mentioned when they met at the Sundermount altar?

He isn’t sure if he wants to know, all things considered.

“What to do with you…”

Flemeth’s idle musing catches his attention and sends his heart racing. Oh Maker, oh Andraste… She turns toward him, eyes bright and that knife-sharp smile creasing her features but never making it to her eyes.

“I have a bargain for you, boy,” she says. “Will you do an old woman the favor of hearing her out?”

Anders coughs and clears his throat. “Produce an old woman and I might,” he jokes weakly. She only arches a brow and he hurries to nod. “Yes, I’ll… I’ll hear your bargain.”

It might be a foolish agreement, but even sheltered Circle mages, raised far from the wilds of anywhere, know better than to trifle with the legendary Witch of the Wilds.

“Smart lad,” she says drily. “You’re dying. You know that, don’t you?” Flemeth comes closer, crouching once more to put them roughly face to face. “A run-in with some backwoods mage-hunter. Not even a real Templar. What a shame.”

“She didn’t know what she was doing,” he mutters. “She… I don’t think she knew what she was doing, and I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“But you did.”

“Yes,” he whispers. “To survive.”

Flemeth’s gaze goes curious. “You’ll do a lot to survive,” she observes, as if discussing the weather. “You and your passenger. But you didn’t heal yourself. Couldn’t. I can fix that, of course.”

His body still burns from the mage-hunter’s weapons, concentrated magebane and poison alike coating her blades and arrows. For as prepared as she was, she was sloppy. Anders’ hand rises to the arrowhead that still lies burrowed in his rib cage.

He closes his eyes. Her body rests somewhere in the forest, somewhere between her small town and here—wherever here is. He can’t quite remember, but it won’t be important for much longer.

“Magebane.”

She hums. “Tricky thing, that.”

“You said you had a bargain. If it’s something you want from me before I die, you might want to hurry.” His tongue is reckless, dropping words faster than his mind can weigh them for danger. “If it’s my heart you’re after, you’ll have to be disappointed; I’ve already promised that to another.”

Flemeth barks out a laugh, the sound jarring as it is melodious. “The pretty bird in the City of Chains. They’ve made it their own personal cage, haven’t they? Not that you didn’t help in that regard.” She chuckles again and he can hear the smirk in her voice. Her hand brushes his pauldron-clad shoulder. “Tell me, feather mage, would you do it again, if you could go back and change your little plans? Or would you fly away?”

Hawke? Would he…? Anders frowns. No, that’s not what she is asking. Justice swells at the edges of his mind, steadying the shake in his hands amid visions of blood-red light.

“Again. And again, and again after that.”

He opens his eyes and sees the Fade ripple and dance around them both.

“Good,” Flemeth says, voice terrible and echoing and vast, and the Fade swallows her whole, revealing only her glowing eyes and reaching hand.

A scream tears from his throat. Every mote of his being burns, unfamiliar magic forcing its way into his blood, pounding like a drum in time with his heart. His skin feels too small, too fragile, for the way she rips into his ribs with her talon-like nails.

An eternity later she rocks back from him and he slumps, breathless and half-dead against the woman who props him up. Flemeth examines the remains of the poisoned arrow with polite curiosity before incinerating it in her hand.

“Such a trifling thing, isn’t it?” she asks. “Bodies. So fragile, so restrictive.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” Anders garbles out. The lava fades from his flesh and he can feel the weak ebbing of mana once more, comforting and cool in his veins. He bats his hand weakly at the flask but it’s pressed to his lips once more. This time he’s able to keep himself from drowning on dry land, so it’s a small measure of progress.

The water is soon pulled away and he smacks his lips once, twice, relishing the feeling, before turning his wary eyes to Flemeth. “You said you had a bargain,” he said carefully, “and I’m assuming you just held up your end of it.”

She laughs again. “What a smart lad you are. I think I might like you.”

Knickerweasels.

“I have something I need you to deliver for me. Ah, what is it about you Fereldans making such good couriers?”

She manifests a length of finely wrought chain from… somewhere, and Anders isn’t sure he wants to investigate how. A nail scrapes along her palm to strike a shallow cut, blood welling at an alarming rate for how minor the wound is. She blows on her hand and it solidifies; a glancing touch with the chain and it becomes a pendant, a bloody ruby hanging freely.

“Another necklace,” he says glibly as she places it over his head, speaking again before he can catch himself. “Do I need to find more Dalish elves?”

“Just one,” she answers. “A Senior Enchanter in Cumberland. You’ll find him and deliver it for me, won’t you? Do an old woman this small favor?”

Cumberland. Where in the Void was he? He retraces his steps mentally, almost two months on his own. He had been going… north, then east. He thinks. He isn’t sure. “Where am I now?” Anders asks with hesitation.

“Good question,” she muses. “Where are you?”

With that Flemeth stands, brushing imaginary dirt off her armor. The woman beneath him, so still and complacent to her mother’s demands, shifts and helps him sit up fully. Anders watches as they step away—oh, he’s in a small clearing. When did he get here?

He raises his hands to his eyes against the brilliant flare of light that sweeps over him and in a breath, they are gone, a giant high dragon taking wing with what can only be described as an amused roar.

Anders surveys the clearing tiredly. He barely manages to set the barest of wards before he falls unconscious once more, one arm curled protectively over his ribcage and the other clutching at the amulet.

I’m hosting a discounted commission sale until 2/17/19! Check out my announcement here for more details!

Not interested in commissioning me but still want to support my work? Consider buying me a Kofi or reblogging my post!

#Soulrebel Writes #Soulrebel Commissions #Anders #Flemeth #Dragon Age 2 #DA2 #post-game #harm to anders #and then he's healed it's okay #dragon age #reblogs welcome and appreciated!

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lemonsandstrawberries · 6 years

Text

In the Lab

fandom: MCU, Tony Stark and Peter Parker,

summary: Tony and Peter are sharing work time in the lab, and Peter can’t stop talking and making pop culture references.

length: 1 400 words

a/n: a very late happy birthday, @amazingmsme ! inspired by a prompt from the bday girl, changed a bit, but the general idea remained. this is my first time writing Peter Parker in the MCU setting (not Superfamily, but Tony acting as Peter’s mentor), so hope you like it! (also, I am gonna give a cookie to the first person that will list all the references I included in this fic!)

————–

In the Lab

"Mr Stark---"

"Not now, Pete."

"But Mr Stark---"

"I said not now. Zip it, kid."

"But Mr Stark, I have an idea that---"

"MR PARKER!" Tony suddenly bellowed and Peter felt that he was in trouble. Maybe not really in trouble, but that he crossed some invisible line.

"What is so important that you have to interrupt me?" Tony turned around from his workbench, eyeing the teenager. He purposely left Peter with his own task, which was improving the web shooters. Peter's newest design was already good but could be even better with a proper amount of work. Tony knew that from experience, as he kept improving his Iron Man armors and each design helped him learn and see what could be made better and more efficient. There was no such thing as perfection.

Peter made a sheepish face, feeling mildly scolded. He just wanted to help. "I noticed you seem stuck on one problem---" Tony twitched nervously, but let the teen continue, "and just wanted to remind you, that sometimes the easiest solutions are the best. Like Equivalent Exchange."

"Excuse me?" Tony lowered his eyebrows, looking almost irritated. Peter grinned at that.

"I meant this," he said, and trotted to Tony, leaning over his notes and drawing a circle at one equitation. "It seems off."

Tony took the note and put closer to his face. He ran through the numbers again and stopped on the place Peter had pointed out. Dammit, the kid was right. His math was way off. It probably was because his eyes were getting tired and some details had slipped past him. Kudos to the kid for noticing, though.

"Good job, Mr Parker," Tony praised, and Peter smiled a little bit brighter. "You passed this test," Tony lied and patted teenager's shoulder, just to save his own face.

Peter kept smiling, knowing his mentor better. "I am just glad we avoided that boulder."

And Tony just stared.

"Boulder? Rolling boulder? Like you know, in that scene, where the guy with a fedora and a whip has to put a bag of sand in a place of a gold statue and he miscalculated the weight and later a boulder rolls on him? That really old movie?"

"Really old---!" Tony yelled out in outrage, of course, knowing what movie Peter meant. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Teenagers. "I saw that movie in the cinema when I was around your age."

Some stunned silence, followed by ---

"Wow, that had to be a long time ago."

And Tony just glared.

"I meant," Peter panicked, "I meant that I recognize you as a mature and wise figure in my life," okay, that was better. Almost flattering. "Like, you are that little green guy and I am that guy who was schooled by him and later on his hand is cut off."

Tony had an urge to smash his head on his workbench. Almost.

"You know, that movie, Mr Stark, that old movie, that was filmed like forty years ago---"

Somehow it began to be painful to listen and Tony really missed having Rhodey around and talking to someone who he could be on his level of life experience.

"Okay, kid, kid!" Tony straightened up and pointed at Peter, ceasing his chatter. The kid was a genius, no doubt about it, but he did tend to blab a lot. Somehow Tony could relate. "One more pop culture reference and you will be in trouble."

"Okay. Sorry," Peter quickly said, sounding timid. He liked Tony and respected him, but had those weird moments of considering the older man as his best friend, before going back to thinking that although the friendship was mutual, Tony was his mentor figure on the first place. Someone he should respect and listen to.

"Now, get back to the web shooters."

Oh no.

"But, Mr Stark," Peter definitely didn't whine, "all I do lately is work on the web shooters!" he continued not to whine, meaning the pile of new designs on the side of the lab Tony loaned to him whenever he had to work with Tony. Own space was important, but on that pace of sketches, he was slowly running out of the said space.

"Hey, you just called me Yoda to your Luke, so don't question me and get back to work."

Peter walked back to his desk, grumbling all the way. "At least Yoda was funny… With you all it is is wax on, wax off…"

Uh oh.

And he could feel Tony's glare on his back.

"Mr Stark! I am sorry, it slipped out! Ah!" Peter yelped, as Tony already reached his hands for him. When strong fingers clasped on his sides it already was too late. Peter would forever curse the day, he had decided to bring Ned to the compound and so the overexcited poking fest began. Peter really was seeing everything Ned was and there was no need to poke him to make him pay attention. And poking lead to some tickling, and Tony seeing everything when he had gone out to greet them. He didn't comment, but Peter felt embarrassed anyway. Knowing that Tony knew was embarrassing. Yet, Tony didn't do anything. Unless Peter went into a chatterbox mode and he needed some quick and clean way to quiet the teen down. Like now.

"No!" Peter managed to get out, before fingers squeezed his waist. Some cheerful, bubbly laughter was already spilling out, and there was no way for him to stop it. "Nahahaha! I am sohahahry!" Peter wriggled around the hands, trying to move away. To be honest, the most difficult thing was to fight all of his instincts on pushing Tony away. Combined with his strength, it wouldn't end well for either of them. The tickling was short and playful, ceased by Peter leaping out and onto the table, and then he took the only reasonable path to freedom. Meaning, he climbed on the ceiling.

Tony stopped, his hands still positioned just where Peter was a few seconds ago. Peter eyed his mentor from his upside down position, and still caught the glimpse of the older man's smiling face. In his opinion, Mr Stark didn't smile as often as he should, and it was good to see him smiling. Even at his own expanse. When Tony's eyes caught Peter's and registered the position he was in, he smiled even more and laughed happily.

"Okay, kid, you can come down," Tony said, raising his hands up and showing that he had no more intentions in tickling Peter. "I promise not to get you. Unless you make another reference."

"Promise?" Peter asked. It was better to be safe than sorry.

"Yeah, yeah. Now get off from there, because if you fall down and break your neck, your aunt will totally blame me."

Peter smiled to himself, leaping down, and doing a somersault mid-air, his sneakers making an almost inaudible sound on the ground after the soft landing. Tony narrowed his eyes at Peter's smiling ones. 'Show off'. It wasn't said out loud, but Peter could figure it out from the older man's expression.

"Right. Work time," Tony snapped his fingers, pointing back at Peter's workbench. "And no movie, vine or… meme references or whatever for the rest of the day. Got it?"

"Got it," Peter nodded, and turned back once again to his desk, smiling to himself, and trying to not make it too apparent. He looked at his notes, suddenly feeling a rush of inspiration. Turned out that the short break was just what he needed to unblock his mind.

"Or no. You know what? I think it is time for lunch," Tony said out loud, stacking his notes in a neat pile, just as Peter started to work on another sketch. "Are you in a mood for something? How about some Del Taco? They have this new thing called fresh a voca do."

Peter snapped his head around so fast, his muscles stretched painfully. "Mr Stark, did you just…?" Peter asked, smiling from ear to ear.

"Did I just what?" Tony asked back, completely focused on his work. His back was facing Peter and he couldn't see his face, but had a feeling that he was smiling.

"Never mind, Mr Stark," Peter answered, turning to his notes back. "Del Taco sounds great," he said, still smiling. It was a fine day for science.

#tony stark #peter parker #father son relationship #peter and tony #fanfic #tickle fic #fanfiction #ticklish!peterparker

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douxreviews · 5 years

Text

Manifest - ‘Upgrade’ Review

"Faith is compromised by pessimism, Alice. Let's be optimistic. Put the gun down."

In the first 90 seconds or so of this episode, both Zeke and Cal have the same calling, a vivid vision of a very unfriendly black wolf. It's a metaphor, but a metaphor for what? or who?

While Ben and Michaela and Zeke are discussing the wolf metaphor, Saanvi gets a visit at her office from a lady named Alice who bears no small resemblance to Kathy Bates. Alice's husband Jacob has cancer, they've been told it's not treatable, and she's desperate and obviously distraught. Even though Saanvi is a researcher and doesn't normally treat adults, she takes pity on Alice and agrees to go see Jacob.

Jacob's cancer is too far gone, but Alice is a Believer and is convinced that Saanvi has mystical Flight 828 powers that allow her to cure the incurable. Alice also has misinterpreted Stephen King's Misery as a how-to book, and when Saanvi tries to leave Alice whacks her across the face and then pulls a gun on her. (It also has apparently not occurred to her that beating up or shooting one of the 828 passengers might be the Believer equivalent of sacrilege.) Jacob, to his credit, tries to talk his wife into releasing Saanvi, but Alice is too emotionally overclocked to listen to reason.

When he hears that workaholic Saanvi can't be found in the hospital and is missing appointments, Ben's spider senses kick in. He manages to identify Alice as Saanvi's last visitor, and tie her in to The Church of the Returned. The Church is a storefront congregation of Believers presided over by fellow 828 passenger Adrian, last seen a few episodes ago, who has started a new career as an object of worship. Based on his conversations with Ben, it's pretty obvious to us in the audience that Adrian is deliberately running a scam.

With a little help from the search tools in the NYPD database, Ben and Michaela locate Alice's apartment. Ben rather cleverly talks his way in and, by pretending to be there to help Saanvi perform an 828 miracle, distracts Alice enough that Michaela can disarm her and end the standoff.

On the romantic triangle front, Lourdes notices a certain lack of enthusiasm on Jared's part (IYKWIMAITTYD) and deduces that he had a dalliance with Michaela. She goes to the police station to confront her now-former friend, and it goes about as badly as you'd expect.

While all this is going on, Zeke tries to make sense of the wolf by talking to Cal. Cal is in a bit of a funk because he is worried that the callings come true because of his drawings. Zeke and Grace help set him straight by, among other things, having him draw a picture of a pile of money on the family dining table. After the cash fails to materialize, Cal draws a picture of the wolf jumping at Michaela.

As the episode ends, Michaela is called to the river. Four days earlier, while our protagonists were up in the Catskills looking for Cal, there was an armored car robbery, followed by a high-speed chase, followed by the getaway vehicle plunging into the East River. The divers have finally located the van in question, and a crane fishes it out of the river. When Michaela opens the driver's door, expecting to find a corpse, the driver lunges at her.

"828" Watch

The arc number is all over the Church of the Returned, of course. Lourdes and Jared's house number is 3528, which if you add the first two digits (3+5) is an "828" sighting.

Also on the manifest...

This week's gold star for acting goes to Parveen Kaur for a short scene near the end of the episode where Saanvi's post-Alice PTSD hits her like a ton of bricks.

The black wolf is obviously a CGI visual effect, just not-real enough to take up residence in the Uncanny Valley. Where's this Uncanny Valley, you might ask? TV Tropes explains:

In 1970 Japanese roboticist Masahiro Mori proposed in "The Uncanny Valley" that the more human a robot acted or looked, the more endearing it would be to a human being. . . . However, at some point, the likeness seems too strong and yet somehow, fundamentally different — and it just comes across as a very strange human being. At this point, the acceptance drops suddenly, changing to a powerful negative reaction.

That's why zombies are more frightening than Daleks. It's also why the human characters in the Incredibles and Toy Story films are stylized and cartoony even though the settings and other objects on screen are rendered realistically: stylizing the CGI people keeps them from falling into the Uncanny Valley and alienating the audience.

Might the Wolf of Uncanny Valley have been a deliberate choice on the part of the VFX crew, and not a special effects fail? If they'd simply rented a trained wolf and had it look menacing and growl in front of the camera, it would have looked like . . . a trained wolf growling. Your mileage may vary, of course, but for me the Uncanny Valley effect makes the CGI wolf more unsettling than a live wolf would be.

(It also occurs to me that "The Wolf of Uncanny Valley" would be a good name for a heavy metal song or a Twilight-wanabee young adult book series.)

There were some throwaway references to the armored car robbery in the last two episodes--a background radio news broadcast in "Vanishing Point," for example--which established it in-universe without being too obvious as foreshadowing.

We need to have a talk about your recent behavior, Jared. Asking your ex-fiancee/crush to stay the night just a few hours after your wife leaves you because you cheated on her with that very same ex-fiancee/crush? Not to put too fine a point on it, that's so tacky that it needs a "Wet Paint" sign.

If Adrian, the fraudulent pastor of the Church of the Returned, and Cody Weber, the wannabe demagogue behind SprayPaint828ersHouses.com 828DemandtheTruth.com introduced in the previous episode, were to come into physical contact with each other, would the result be mutual annihilation like with matter and antimatter? That would be a wonderfully convenient solution to both problems.

Quotes

Ben: "Cal had a calling last night, too. We found him on the floor . He said 'It's coming.'" Michaela: "What's coming, a wolf?" Zeke: "I know I've been gone a while. We get a lot of those in Queens?"

Ben: "Adrian is a false prophet, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Matthew 7:15." Michaela: "Look at the atheist remembering Bible verses." (A beat.) "You looked it up, didn't you?"

Conclusion

While traditional faith communities (and the other "little platoons" that hold societies together) have declined in influence in recent years, the human need to find meaning in life hasn't gone anywhere. As both G.K. Chesterton and John Cougar Mellencamp observed, if you don't believe in something, you'll believe anything. If something like Flight 828 happened in real life, it's all but inevitable that some sort of "movement" would form around the event or the participants, and it would probably take about 45 seconds after that before some charlatan starts exploiting the phenomenon for personal profit. All that being said, I can't shake the feeling that the Believers, and the Church of Lining Adrian's Pockets, are a little too one-dimensional and should have been fleshed out better. Aside from that complaint, it was a good episode with a lot of good character moments.

Three out of four submerged getaway vehicles.

Cookie the Dog, who is Baby M's immediate supervisor, is a descendant of wolves.

#Manifest #Ben Stone #Michaela Stone #Manifest Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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coe-lilium · 5 years

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Hey Lilium! Thanks for your answer, it was really informative! I’ve got myself a litte tablet atm which is really working for me. I meant to ask about character design too- what advice could you give on that?

I’m glad it was helpful!

Here’s my experience with chara des then, bearing in mind that I’ve yet to finalize a single original charades and all I’ve done till now are redesigns, which -for me, at least?- are a lot easier since they give you a guideline, even if just to say “I’m doing the opposite”.

1. Find a main theme for the project/piece

2. Research-research-research

3. Bear in mind that you’re creating/altering something for you to like

4, bonus. once you’re done, consider the audience you’ll show -or not- your work to.

1. the main theme/idea for all my redesigns is “I love Fate, but I also love history and die a little every time a Fate design has nothing to do with the character period/culture/history. I wonder what they’ll look like with accurate clothes?”. I’m still running with it, but it needed some adjustments along the way.

The very first attempt, Martha, was as historically accurate I could manage, which… wasn’t a lot. “low class jewish woman of the 1st century aC” was a little too specific and google gave me little to work on and I had to resort to religious depictions. I’m still happy with her, but now I can see that in my wish to make her as historically plausible as possible I ended up with a design too accurate, to the point of being, well, bland. Bland and sticking out like a sore thumb if put next to any other Fate character. If and when I’ll revamp her, I’ll add details and be careful to include something to convey her personality.

So, 1:1 with history was out, next best thing I had was mixing history and the “Fate”/anime aesthetic. Not for every character, mind (Nitocris looks quite fine in clothes taken straight out of a Egyptian parietal painting), but now that I’ve tried, I’ve settled down for “how they’ll look like with evident historical and cultural inspirations?”, which is what I’ve done for Boudica, Jeanne and Bradamante, what I’ll keep doing for the next pieces and also for the original Servants I’m planning.

Speaking of originals Servants, since I’m having troubles explaining things in general, I’ll use one of them as an example for the next point.

*under the cut for length*

2. Let’s say I want to design another lady from the Orlando Innamorato/Furioso, Marfisa, as a potential Servant.

As a first step I collect info from the source material.

She’s of noble origins, mixed race, “pagan”/muslim (it’s complicated), possibly either north African or Arabian, queen of 7 countries by the time she’s 18, devout, proud, brave, honourable and incredibly skilled as a warrior, has no magic aids or objects but win on sheer ability alone. Twin of Ruggiero (Brad’s fiancee), friend of Astolfo and Bradamante. Had an armor she cared a lot for and went to great lengths to get back when it got stolen.

(me being me, I also went to academia.edu, found articles/PhD on her and read them to better understand the character, but there’s few chara I’m willing to research to this length for a redesign).

Considering Servants are summoned at their peaks, physically I’ll have her look in her late teens/early twenties, brown skin and with a hijab (which will require some research by itself).

Onto deciding the clothes/armor now:

- the “official” time period of her life should be that of historical Charlemagne rule and life, but the works in which she features have no claims of historicity whatsoever and were published in 1483 and 1516.

- comes from the same material as the Paladins and thus should -imo- looks like she somehow belongs with them even if she’s in their enemy camp and from a different culture.

- as they are now, the Paladins common (?) aesthetic seems to be, sorry can’t contain the snark, “random fantasy isekai reject”, with Astolfo being the best designed by miles and Charles looking fine in his alt armored skin, the rest being a disaster. This point has the highest chance not to get contemplated in the final design bc I loathe it. Being less snarky, the few positive design details point to their inspiration being rooted more in 1500 than 800 AC fashion, so I’ll keep that in mind.

So, she’s got no reason to being accurate with a single period (or culture) but could should instead integrate bits from many places and eras. Influences from easily accessible media is welcome, both to mirror the Paladins LN influences and bc the og poems were incredibly successful and printed in spades and read in courts and less noble houses alike.

Now that I have my guidelines it’s finally time to hunt for visual references.

Looking for historical islamic countries armor is a obligatory step bc I personally have no idea how they looked like and if I find how they were assembled and what colors were used it will be helpful to build my own ver and know how things attach. The period and place doesn’t count, I simply go for what I like more and think this particular chara would wear. Your mileage my vary, but for me history is always the first step to start from, bc if you use only popular media or artistic depictions there’s the chance to make mistakes easily corrected when looking at how the real stuff worked and also to get more… repetitive?

Then I look for how the character’s being depicted before in art of all periods. In this case all I found was a white lady in european armor, completely useless, but usually there’s a lot more and for other characters this “spot” is where I spend most of my researching time after the historical one.

Then I look for… video games with historical settings that fit my criteria (remember, popular media). Find something I like and keep digging into a particular game and -if lucky enough- in the deviantart pages of the artists responsible for that or that other design.

After I’ve collected a lot of different refs I go here on tumblr or on DA or in dedicated sites to find nice palettes and after I’ve got different options for these as well, rejoice!, research time is finally over!

Now’s time to mix all the influences and draw :D

3. Not a lot to say here, just that if you’re not working under commission then you’re doing this for fun and mostly for yourself, so put in the things you like. You like implausible fantasy/jrpg/videogame/cartoon aesthetic more than IRL/ historical aesthetic? Dang, go for it.

My mindset got a lot better when I embraced the fact I wasn’t redesigning these characters to “make them objectively better”, there was no “mission”: I was doing this to please myself and my own tastes, and that was enough.

4. For example, I know I could cover all the Fate ladies in armor for no other reason than I like ladies in armor and find at least neutral reactions on this blog or my DA page, but you’ll never see me post my works in the fgo reddit, even those I’m more proud of, because I know that subreddit and I have no intention to submit myself to a river of mocking, accuses of puritanism and muh censorship!!.

I suppose this suggestion’s useless if you want to always widen your audience and/or are looking for employment in the field and need all the recognition you can get, but as I have no intention of doing either I get to decide where to show my stuff and to avoid places where it’s likely the reactions will make me feel miserable. No one needs that noise in their life for a hobby, fuck that.

Last but not for relevance, as a cautionary tale? Spite/anger at something can be one hell of a motivation to start working, but it’s not enough to let you finish a project unless you start enjoy what you’re creating down the road.

In case of og chara it shouldn’t be any spite, but as soon as you get tired of your work, stop, put it on hiatus and go concentrate on something else. We’re doing this because it makes us happy, it’s no good to let it drag and become a chore.

#paragon-arthur #answer #drawing tips #???#i guess??#man i've never taken classes on this take with massive grain of salt bc it's only how i work

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leisurelypanda · 6 years

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To be honest, Steve didn't have any idea what was going on. One moment he was asking his boyfriend to have sex with him someday, the next he was scared out of his wits. He and Thor spent more time together than ever. It was a few days before Steve once again found himself with his shirt off and Thor tenderly kissing the scars left long ago. Just like before, he found himself feeling exposed and vulnerable. Unlike before, Thor removed his shirt as well and their chests touched. Steve trembled against him. Thor made no move, however, to press his advantage.

Not that it helped with Steve's arousal. And this second time, he could feel the evidence of Thor's. And that, more than anything, more than being with him or showing him his scars, more than the idea of standing up to his father, terrified him. The idea that someone could somehow want him in… that way.

He could barely sleep at night, going over what he said to him, wondering if he made a mistake, whether Thor really wanted him at all or if he was just a horny teenager. He wondered if he truly was falling for him or if he himself was a horny teenager. He wondered if he would ever really be ready when Thor was ready. He even wondered whether all of this was a good idea.

On the Friday before Thanksgiving, Steve awoke feeling like he hadn't slept at all. His alarm went off 5 times before his mom was forced to practically pull him out of bed so he could get ready for school. They barely got out the door to get to school on time. On the way to school, Steve looked down at his phone to see a text from his boyfriend. It made sense, he would usually have been at the meeting place 15 minutes ago by now.

Are you well?

I’m fine, I was just late getting out of bed, he replied.

I am relieved. See you soon :)

He smiled in spite of himself at the fact that Thor was worried about him. It didn’t help his conundrum, though.

“Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, dear,” she said.

“How do you know when you’re... ?” he trailed off.

“When you’re what?” she asked.

“...in love,” he said. His mom, thankfully, didn’t laugh at him. She smiled knowingly.

“It depends. You might think about him constantly, you might feel really, really good when you’re around them, you might feel really, really stressed--”

“Well, if anyone can accomplish feeling really happy and really stressed at the same time,” he said. “I think it’s me.”

She laughed at that. “You make future plans with him--”

“Like Thanksgiving,” he interrupted again.

“Yes, like that,” she said with a smile. It had been years since they actually went somewhere with a Thanksgiving dinner. Bucky always visited family elsewhere, so it was usually just the two of them. “You might feel safe when you’re with him and things that might terrify you don’t seem as bad if you’re with him.”

Steve remembered the night Thor got him to go on the roller coasters at Coney Island. He hated it, but somehow it didn’t fill him with trepidation like it did. He’d do it again. That was to say nothing of the daily fear that he lived with that he wasn’t living up to Thor’s expectations or that he was somehow failing him. Thor had a… soothing presence. Even if it didn’t help completely, it did help some.

“I think I might be falling in love with Thor,” he said quietly. She smiled with sympathy.

“I know, dear,” she whispered, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “I know.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“Have you told him?” she asked.

“Well, a couple weeks ago I said I thought I was falling hard for him,” he said.

“What did he say?”

“He said he was in the same boat,” he replied. “But I don’t want to like… scare him off, you know?”

“Well, you don’t have to say anything just yet,” she said. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be surprised.”

“I wish I could know for sure,” he said.

“I know you do,” she whispered. Shortly after she pulled into the school parking lot. “Now, dry your eyes and hurry on inside before you’re late to class.”

“Thanks mom,” he said, grabbing his backpack. “Love you!”

“I love you, too,” she said with a wave. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve didn’t get a chance to talk to Thor until school let out. For a school that was about to go on break, the teachers were oddly insistent that they get shit done. Except for Ms. Foster, who seemed to understand that at the end of the day, no one was really paying attention to physics. Not with a week off school so within reach.

“Have you been sleeping, älskling?” Thor asked after class.

“Not really,” he admitted as they trudged down to the parking lot. They made plans to hang out after school today, to celebrate a break from school. “I’m pretty sure I went most of the night without.”

“Is it your anxiety?” he asked.

Yes. “No, I’ve just been working too hard,” he replied. Thor raised an eyebrow but didn’t contradict him. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good sign or not. Besides, if the bags under his eyes were any indication, Thor looked like he was short on sleep, too.

“Maybe we can take a nap before we do anything else today,” Thor said. Steve snickered.

“Does the mighty Thor take naps?” he asked.

“The mighty Thor takes power naps,” his boyfriend replied with a grin. “Care to join me?”

Perhaps against his better judgment, Steve nodded as he stifled a yawn. He managed to last until they got to Thor's house. As soon as they were on the couch, Steve laid his head on his boyfriend's shoulder and fell right to sleep. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve was standing in the middle of a golden palace. All around him people wore garments that hadn't been seen in easily 1000 years. There were robes so regal he couldn't imagine the cost, warriors in armor that gleamed in the golden light. He couldn't help but feel like he was out of place until he looked down at himself. He was dressed in soft, form fitting blue robes with a burgundy tunic beneath.

He looked up and, to his shock, he stood in the middle of a crowded throne room. The people cheered. Steve immediately felt self-conscious being the center of everyone's attention. At the end of the hall in front of the steps ascending to the throne was… Thor… on a majestic, white horse. Clad in glittering black armor that outlined his muscular form, a long red cape that dragged behind him on the floor, and a hammer, of all things, he was the image of royal bearing. His boyfriend beamed at him as he approached.

When Steve arrived at the foot of the stairs, Thor dismounted and kissed him full on the lips to the adoring cheers of the public.

“Welcome,” a voice boomed. Steve jumped and looked up at the throne. It was Odin, but instead of looking like a thundercloud as he so often did, he looked kind, gentle even. Strangely, he also wore an eye patch and he held a great spear in one hand. Next to him on one side was Frigga, smiling down at him and Loki on the other. Tony was there too, and he looked as out of place as Steve felt.

“My firstborn son shall declare his intentions today before our court,” he intoned.

“Huh now?” Steve asked. Thor walked over to him and took his hand in his, lacing their fingers together as they so often did.

“My love,” he said in a clear, powerful voice. “I have never been happier since I have known you. Your beautiful heart and your warrior's spirit have enticed me like no other. With your blessing, I will make you my husband and consort. Will you have me?”

“Yes!” he cried. “Yes I will!”

“Let it be known,” Odin intoned. “That I, Odin All-father, bless and sanction this union!”

The throne room erupted in cheers and Thor captured Steve's lips in a passionate kiss. Then he lifted him up onto the horse. Steve gripped the saddle for dear life as Thor mounted the steed behind him.

“I have you, my love,” he whispered. He gripped the reins and drove the horse into a gallop. They rode through the streets, people cheering as they passed and they kept riding until finally they reached the limits of the golden city.

“Ready for the next adventure?” Thor asked. Steve smiled and laid a hand on his.

“Always,” he said. Thor moved the horse to a trot and they rode out into the gleaming sunset. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve awoke on the couch feeling somewhat disoriented. For one, he was lying down. His head was resting against something… not uncomfortable, but definitely too firm to be a pillow. He felt someone's hand in his hair and heard someone snoring softly above him. Another arm was resting protectively on his back. His arms were also wrapped around something warm. It was then that he realized that he was literally sleeping on Thor. Steve's body was nestled between Thor's legs and his head rested on his stomach.

Thor's breaths were slow and even. Steve was in the awkward position of wanting to cuddle with his boyfriend but also wanting to do something. With nothing better to do, he thought back on the dream he had. It wasn’t like most dreams he remembered. Most were bad, based in some kind of fear, according to Dr. Erskine. This one, this one was positively joyful. It was strange. The image of Thor as a kind of knight in shining armor seemed appropriate. It did fit somewhat with how he saw him. He reached for his backpack on the floor beneath him and took out his sketchbook. He was going to try and capture that image.

Trying to draw something from a memory as hazy as a dream was always challenging. He had already drawn Thor. That picture was more or less done by now. He just needed to make a few adjustments. Motivation to work on it had been fleeting over the past few weeks. He looked up an image of a white horse for a reference. Having only ever seen horses a handful of times, and then mostly in movies or videos, it was difficult at first. He managed to get the dimensions right after a few tries. Drawing Thor on top of it would be another challenge. He went through half a dozen sheets of paper before he was satisfied with the outcome.

In lieu of drawing dozens of separate, distinct faces, Steve decided to just draw the sun through a large, open window with Loki and Frigga in the background. He debated drawing Odin as well, but decided to forego it for now. Odin left a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. He couldn’t figure out why. The sun shone its rays down on the figures there, filling the room with the golden light from Steve’s dream.

Steve set the drawing aside and stretched his cramped hand. His fingers had long since formed calluses where he held his pencils when he was sketching. He looked over at Thor. He was still sleeping, none the wiser, evidently. His face was gentle, serene. Stray strands of hair fell across his face. His beard was getting a bit long, but it was well groomed and neat, not like the messy, scraggly beards young people seemed to have more often than not. He honestly couldn’t imagine him clean shaven. He found his beard too attractive to entertain the thought for long.

He leaned back against him. He relished the warmth of his body. Thor hummed and wrapped one of his arms back around him. Steve smiled and rested his head against his chest.

Then, whether it was bravado or if he was spending too much time with Loki, a wonderful, mischievous thought occurred to him. He moved up Thor's body and began to kiss his neck. His hand sneaked up to his hair and ran his hands through it, massaging his scalp.

Thor purred. Whether it was in his sleep or if he was beginning to wake up, Steve couldn't tell. But he took it as a good sign. He continued his ministrations, moving to suck at his neck and sneaked a hand up beneath Thor's shirt to feel his body. He trembled. This boldness wasn't usually his thing. Maybe Thor was rubbing off on him.

Thor hummed beneath him. He was beginning to stir beneath him. His hands began to roam over his body. Steve shivered as his hands touched his sides, trying not to laugh. His hands reached the small of his back… then went past it to rest on his ass.

“Thor,” Steve whispered.

“Steve,” Thor replied. His hands continued to grope him. Thor bucked his hips slightly and Steve gasped as he realized they were both hard. He bit his lip and moaned.

Thor's eyes fluttered open. His hands paused for a moment and Steve froze.

“Is this a dream?” he asked. He, perhaps hesitantly, squeezed Steve's ass. Steve moaned and jumped in Thor's arms as his boyfriend began to knead his ass. “If it is, it is a good dream.”

“No,” he whispered.

Thor paused and his hands rose up to his back.

“Please,” he whispered into Thor's ear. He pulled his hair, gently. “Don't stop.”

Thor regarded him for a moment. Then Thor kissed him and returned his hands to where they had been. It was the slow, lazy kiss of a man who had everything he wanted and Steve smiled against his lips.

“My little hero,” he whispered. “How brave you are becoming.”

Steve preened at the endearment. One of Thor's hands squeezed his ass again. The other snaked up below his shirt. Steve hummed as he felt Thor's callused hand caress the small of his back. He arched into the touch, pressing the evidence of his arousal against his boyfriend's.

“Oh my God!” he gasped. He blushed so much he thought his face would burst into flames. He tried to get away, but Thor pulled him close and rolled them over so Steve was trapped between him and the couch cushions. He was completely shocked when Thor began to rut himself against him.

Someone made a disgusted noise. He saw Loki covering his head with a hand.

“If you two must hump each other,” he said. “You might want to wait until everyone's gone or find somewhere private to do it.”

Steve hid is mortification in Thor's neck until Loki left.

“We can stop if you want,” Thor whispered.

Do I want that? he wondered. It was hard to think clearly. He wanted the physical proximity. He wanted to be with Thor, but… was he ready for their relationship to go there? It wasn't like they would go that far today, but still, it felt like a big deal. He couldn't help the surge of anxiety as he realized what his answer was.

“Yes,” he said. “I want to stop. I'm sorry.”

Thor rested his head against Steve's. “You need not apologize, älskling,” he said. “We do not have to do anything you are not ready for.”

Steve closed his eyes and breathed in tandem with his boyfriend. He felt his heart rate begin to settle. He released a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“It is no trouble, my little hero,” Thor replied. He kissed his nose and sat up. “What's this?”

Thor held up the picture of him from Steve's dream. Steve had managed to get the rough outline of the picture mostly done. If he wanted to, he could start sketching with colors.

“Oh. That,” he said. “It’s something knew that came to me.”

“Should I pose on a horse to help your process?” he asked with a grin. “I can ride a horse, if you want.”

“Do you happen to have a red cape as well?” Steve asked drily. "What about a suit of armor?"

“Alas, I do not,” he replied. “My heroic visage will be incomplete. I would like to see it when it is complete.”

“I can do that,” Steve agreed. “Speaking of completed drawings, I have this.”

He flipped to the page with the final edition of the picture he had started sketching some weeks back and handed it to his boyfriend. Thor held it gently.

“You did this with colored pencils?” he asked in amazement.

“It's not that impressive,” he said.

“Älskling, I do not know what you compare your art to,” Thor said as he gazed at the picture. “But you are too modest. This is amazing.”

“Thanks babe,” he said. He wasn't sure whether to believe him. He personally didn't think that his art was that impressive. But it was rude to turn down a compliment, he had learned.

“Do you mind if I show mother?” he asked. “She wanted to see it, remember?”

Steve fell back against the couch cushions again.

“Fine.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whether it was empty flattery or if Frigga genuinely loved it, Steve wasn't sure how to react. Frigga stared at it for a long time, her eyes wandering over every little detail examining. He sat still and waited for any word of criticism. She was silent, though. He felt a bit like he was in the hot seat. He was trying not to fidget.

“Steve,” she said. “This is truly remarkable.”

“It's nothing special,” he said. “I mean, it's just some scribbles on a piece of paper. I can't make real art like you.”

“Steve, false modesty isn't attractive on anyone,” she said. “What you have here is art as much as anything I've ever done.”

“But--”

Frigga set down the drawing and took his hands in hers. For the first time, he noticed that she also had calluses from practicing her art. She looked into his eyes with such gentleness that whatever protest he had prepared died on his tongue.

“Sweetheart,” she said. “It's okay to be proud of what you've done. To be happy with what you've managed to achieve. This is something to take pride in. Don't be ashamed of anything that makes you happy.”

Tears welled in his eyes. He wished, very briefly, that he wasn't such an easy crier. It made him feel weak. Frigga looked at him for another long moment and drew him into a gentle, motherly embrace. It was a bit like hugging Thor, actually.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“My dear boy,” she whispered back. “Anytime.”

#thundershield #stevethor #thorsteve #steve rogers x thor #marvel #avengers #Thundering Heart #Ballad of the Thundering Heart #fanfic #my work

4 notes · View notes

lordvonthunderporkvi · 7 years

Text

so i decided to write down any thoughts i had while playing episode 3 in google docs and it ended up being 19 pages long whoops

i’m just gonna start off by saying that i am completely not ready for this episode like i can see you, mister eric stirpe, answering asks that say “that one choice made me cry for five minutes straight!” so i’m absolutely terrified and not ready but also unreasonably excited

come on download faster what are we waiting for

why did you restart the download i didn’t tell you to restart the download

hey look it’s FINALLY DONE

i’m actually shaking from excitement

Radar’s doing the narration I’m so proud of my bean

aww his sweet childlike wonder is leaking into his narration

“This game series adapts to the choices you make. The story is tailored by how you play.” yes i know let me play the episode already

oh crap i fell on my face

shut up mister warden you’re voiced by steve from blue’s clues

what’s this piston contraption above my head

well geEZ OKAY NO NEED TO GET HOMICIDAL MISTER WARDEN YOU’RE STILL VOICED BY STEVE FROM BLUE’S CLUES

wow okay Jesse sarcasm is on full blast

so are we like below bedrock or something

geez Jesse has gotten sassy in the past few weeks she’s having a sassy conversation with herself

Jesse turn down the sarcasm

i’m being chased by large henry oh joy

oh look it’s mister warden

wow okay Jesse i knew you were clumsy but i didn’t know you were so clumsy you tripped and somehow managed to flip onto your back

oh okay that’s big hank not large henry

okay so we’re bringing back the lightning from episode 6

aand my computer froze

and we’re back

okay i need to cool it with these notes i’m never going to get anywhere if i keep pausing the game every five seconds

the warden’s head is weird

Jesse you thought he wasn’t there and then he turned out to be Vos don’t even try

aww i was the admin’s favorite

wow okay i would say way to go Jack but you’re probably going to get probed now

and it’s froZEN AGAIN

I’m slowing down the notes so i can actually get through the game so there won’t be many notes now sorry

also Jack’s hair is described as “majestic” and i just

We need to get to the burrows

I DON’T LIKT HE SOUND OF THE “MUSH ROOM”

Oh wait it’s a play on “mushroom”

I dont’ want to go to your office mister warden

NO I CAN’T MAKE THIS CHOICE

OKAY FINE MISTER WARDEN NO NEED TO GET HOMICIDAL AGAIN LAST I CHECKED YOU WERE STILL VOICED BY STEVE FROM BLUE’S CLUES

OKAY GEEZ I’LL JOIN YOU ARE YOU HAPPY NOW

I’m so sorry radar

I FEEL SO BAD

Okay but i actually look really good in this uniform

RADAR OH MY NOTCH YOU ARE LITERALLY GOING TO MAKE ME CRY

Oxblood has wheat okay then

I REGRET EVERYTHING WHY DID I DECIDE TO WORK FOR THE WARDEN

Rob reminds me of Samuel from life is strange

Aww you’re welcome little painter

Brick only refers to himself in the third person

BRICK GOT SENT TO THE INSTITUTE FOR NARRATING EVERYTHING OH MY NOTCH

Yes tell me brick

Oh i bet it’s prisoner x

Oh it is

I’M SO SORRY MISTER TATTOOS I HATE BEING AN ASSOCIATE

IS HE GONNA FIRE ME

PLEASE FIRE ME

Oh it’s the sword

It’s my sword

NO IT’S MY SWORD

NO I HATE BEING AN ASSOCIATE FIRE ME FREAKING FIRE ME WARDEN

THE ADMIN IS HERE COME ON

Oh it’s just a recording

Oh shut up no you don’t

WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT PETRA

Radar i am so so sorry

PRISON RADAR

He’s still just a bean

PRISONER X HAS ESCAPED? HECK YEAH BUDDY RIGHT BEHIND YOU

Okay so I was salty about Anthony posting his playthrough early but I legit like his character ingame

Stop referring to yourself in the third person Radar that’s Brick’s thing

I feel like I’m in a horror game this is legit really unsettling

Who loves mooshrooms that much seriously

I saw you being impressive Jesse

HE’S CHEATING

HE’S A CHEATER

HAHA YES

Oh no is he gonna kill it

Oh okay just shear it

No way am i gonna shear it

Oh they’re applauding me

I HATE BEING AN ASSOCIATE

YES I GOT FIRED

NO WAIT PUT THAT MYCELIUM BACK

OH HEY WE’RE MOVING LOWER INTO THE PRIS- *ahem* sorry, “Sunshine Institute”

IT’S LLUNA

YES CAUSE ALL THE TROUBLE I WANT TO BE SENT TO MAXIMUM WiTH HER

Yes Jesse the “Zombiedespair Institute”

Just break the redstone jesse it really isn’t that hard to figure out

AWW FIST BUMPS WITH RADAR

That is suspicious what does the Admin want with all that zombie flesh

Come on stella help me out

Yeah good stella open up to me

Classic stella worried about zombie smell in her hair

Aww of course i’ll help you stella

OH NO PRISONER X ESCAPED AGAIN

Oh no wait it’s just a zombie wave

Frick come on i got the lever and there’s suddenly a conVENIENT ZOMBIE WAVE GREAT TIMING

YES WE GOT IT OPEN

ADMIN PLEASE PUT ME DOWN GO AWAY I HATE YOU

Just kidding i love you

Okay i’m legit about to scream from excitement the Admin is here

PUT

DOWN

YOU

PIECE

CRAP

JACK’S WORRIED ABOUT HIS HUSBAND AWW

PETRA

STOP

THAT

WHAT

ARE

YOU

DOING

PETRA

STOP

PLEASE

IT’S

YOUR

FRIEND

JESSE

STOP

PLEASE

YES JESSE SAVAGE GIVE HIM A TASTE OF HIS OWN MEDICINE

Aww the warden’s eating cake

NO NOT THE WARDEN PLEASE ADMIN NO

Aww mister warden thought the Admin was mad about the cake

Oh okay I thought he was dead he’s just a prisone- sorry, a “guest”

nonononononono

Petra

Please

It’s me

It’s me, Jesse

Don’t do it

You can fight him

Please

Ay i have a sword

I’m not going to use it of course

But cool i have a sword

I am not going to fight her

STOP

PLEASE

ADMIN, SIR, MIGHTY SIR

PLEASE

DON’T HURT HER

HURT ME

TORTURE ME

KILL ME

BUT FOR THE LOVE OF NOTCH

DON’T

TOUCH

HER

SHE DOESN’T WANT TO FIGHT ME BUT HE’S MAKING HER

NOT

GOING

FIGHT

HER

ADMIN

IF YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME JUST DO IT

I AM NOT

FIGHTING

H E R

OH WE’RE MAKING A PLAN

GOOD PLANS ARE GOOD

I TRUST YOU PETRA

KILL HIM I WANT HIM DEAD

YES

NOO HE POOFED OUR SWORDS

OH SHUT UP GO SCREW A CHICKEN

wow i just said “go screw a chicken”

STOP

STRANGLING

“All I asked you to do is fight your friend to the death-” UM

Oh is he letting Petra go?

K thanks bye

“Guess I’ll just be my own friend now.” oh now i actually feel a little bit bad i’m sorry mister admin

“I’m gonna have LOADS of friends soon!” what mister Admin are you planNING TO ENSLAVE BEACONTOWN

NFONofhoiwahghjv’pJOIGEJAPI;GHIWAKGHKIVOKILDSFHPOWA

HE’S DISGUISED HIMSELF AS ME AND HE’S GONNA TRICK BEACONTOWN NO PLEASE ADMIN STOP I’LL BE YOUR FRIEND I’LL BE YOUR BEST FRIEND BUT PLEASE

DON’T

TOUCH

THEM

He’s his own champion wow

no stella pleASE-

FDHAOI;FJIFOEWHOIHAV

LET

HER

wait

Is she

Is she going to sacrifice herself

“Take care of Lluna for me…” stelLA

NO NOT LUKAS AXEL AND OLIVIA PLEASE

PLEASE

DON’T TOUCH THEM

PLEASE

P L E A S E

please

Stella

Stella you’re our only hope

please

Why are you apologizing Petra

Prisoner X please help us

llunaaaaa

Petra went to Narnia

Petra i would never give up on you you’re my best friend

Beacontown is worried about me they didn’t know if I was alive

crAP STACY AND STAMPY AND NELL AND BOB AND THE FANGIRL

LUKAS AXEL OLIVIA

I need Beacontown to be safe gosh stella please

Wow okay they are really careful about security in Prisoner X’s cell

NO PETRA JACK RADAR

Look at Jack and Nurm being married

It’s like season 1 episode 3 all over again

Kinda fitting actually

Aww i’ll catch you Nurm

Okay lluna is a boss

No traps? No tripwires? Levers? Motion sensors? Okay good

She’s in a straitjacket that’s .. unsettling

She’s got a gag on that’s arguably even worse

She’s actually insane holy crap

SIZZLE SIZZLE SIZZLE

Xara okay

Um maybe I got the idea that you knew how to escape because you’re a fricking legend up in the other levels

Who’s Romeo

What

The Admin’s name is Romeo

Okay sure whatever why not

So if he’s Romeo was Xara like his Juliet or something

I’m sensing a story

What the heck happened “Any enemy of Romeo is a friend of mine”

I haven’t even known her two minutes and I’m already in love with her

I bet she used to be his champion and they were like really close and then she did something by accident and he got mad and put her down there

I have to leave someone

nurm

lluna

I cant tdo this

I cant do this

No no no no no no no

No i’m actually crying

I think i have to leave nurm

But jack

Jack

Jcak

Nurm

Lluna

Will i be able to get them back though

I cant leave them

I cant leave lluna

I cant leave nurm

Nurm

Jack i’m so sorry

Wait what is she doing

shE LEFT ME BEHIND

XARA-

XARA WE WERE HAVING A MOMENT

XARA PLZ

Okay explosions, death, etc. etc.

Nurm i am so so sorry

I will get you back

I will get you back if I have to rip Beacontown to shreds in the process

I swear it

I’m so sorry

I’m so

Sorrry

She ripped off her straitjacket wow okay

Jack

Jaaaack

Jack I did a horrible thing

I’m so so so so so so so so sorry jack oh my notch

Stop with the “worth it” talk we’re having a we miss nurm moment and you’re getting fifth harmony stuck in my head

Can we take the warden with us

Don’t kill the warden please that would be very rude

Jack stop it we are not in a laughing mood

Aww Petra’s so excited about the weapons

frick i just remembered the admin’s name is Romeo

Okay Xara is actually really pretty wow

I am questioning my sexuality

Aww Oxblood and Geoff the mooshroom are back together

IT’S A “SUNSHINE INSTITUTE” MIRACLE RADAR DON’T DRAW ROMEO’S ATTENTION

aw hugz

Well dang Xara it would be nice to have you around in a big crowd

Are we not getting any armor?

Come on Xara give us time to get armor

Hey it’s Samuel- sorry, Rob

Shut up mister warden you’re still voiced by steve from blue’s clues

SHE WAS AN ADMIN?!

THERE WERE MORE THAN ONE

THAT’S WHY THE ADMIN HATES HER

H O L Y C R A P

W H E E Z E

XARA WAS AN ADMIN

I like you, mister warden, but I’m taking Xara with me and you’re not standing in my way. Nooo way. I don’t want to kill you but I will

HE’S ACTUALLY FREAKING INSANE

He’s dead

ROB

wow okay xara go on murdering people left and right

Actually i don’t care he was gonna kill us all

“IT’S COMPLICATED” MY BUTT

So that’s how she lived long enough to be an “old friend” of his

So basically Romeo de-opped Xara

Ahem- pitiful “Sunshine Institute”, Xara. Don’t attract his attention.

I hope I become an admin that would be cool

Yes I really trust her Jack she hates Romeo even more than we do and the enemy of my enemy is my friend you should know that you’re an adventurer

Be brave Radar make them taste your bravery

Wow those Romeo-zombies were surprisingly easy to take down

OOH SPIDER TENNIS FUN

“How many of these things are there?” All of them, Jack

DANG XARA JUST STAB THAT SPIDER WITH THE BACK OF YOUR ARROW

DANG XARA SHOOT THOSE SPIDERS YEAH

is it evident enough that I love Xara already

NONO LLUNA

Nevermind then why was I even worried in the first place

crAP I JUST REMEMBERED NURM

NUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMMM

k i’m good

Yes lluna you go spitting those zombies in the face

YES LLUNA JUMP ON THAT SPIDER YES

RADAR

YEAH FIST BUMPS

Yeah i made a shortcut that’s right

Yes she is crazy radar, yes she is

xaRA

XARA ARE WE LOST

XARA FIX THIS PLEASE

Shut your mouth jack she’s been locked up in a tnt room surrounded in lava wearing a straitjacket for notch knows how many years

SHUT UP JACK OH MY NOTCH

Ooh what’s the diamond spire for

Xara you little- get back here

crAP IT’S AN ADMIN GHAST

IT’S SUMMONING MORE ADMIN GHASTS

MORE GHASTS COME ON

THIS THING IS LITERAL NIGHTMARE FUEL WHAT THE HECK

Woah they’re all attacking the admin ghast

I’m gonna fall and die

YEAH JESSE WHOOP WHOOP

YES JESSE QUOTING JACK

THE IMPRESSION

Yes radar we should lend her a hand

Well that was the quickest choice i’ve ever made in a telltale game

LET’S GO FIND HER

Shut up jack

Oh there’s a spider on her back

It’s no problem Xara

A THIRD ADMIN?

Why was his name Fred

Ohhh he’s dead

How did Romeo beat two other Admins all on his own

ohhHHHH

WE’RE GOING BELOW BEDROCK

“We’re not at the bottom of the world! It only appears that way!” WHAT

Jack calm it she used to be a fricking admin she know what she’s doing

Okay bye Jack

Okay I see where he’s coming from but seriously she’s not an admin anymore

What stairs it’s too dark i can’t see any stairs

Oh now i see the stairs

Where are you going jesse follow xara even jack is doing it

FRICK THAT ENDERMAN SCARED ME

Is that it

THAT’S IT??

“You and 59.2% of players agreed to work for the Warden.” i still regret that decision

More players left lluna huh somehow i thought it would be the other way around

Well duh of course i helped xara

THE ORDER HALL

Hey look it’s Romeo the piece of crap himself

NO NOT THE AMULET

Wait what

Who the heck is that

Romeo you are not the gingerbread man

FRICK THE EYES

HOW IS THAT THE END

WHO IS THE TRANSFORMER GUY

WHERE ARE LUKAS AND AXEL AND OLIVIA AND STAMPY AND STACY AND NELL AND BOB AND THE FANGIRL

WHERE’S STELLA

WHAT’S SHE DOING IS SHE COMING UP WITH A PLAN

I NEED ANSWERS

30 notes · View notes

andavs · 7 years

Text

So there’s this long list of prompts, and I love all of them, so I’m going to do a bunch of them completely unprompted.

Number One: “The skirt is supposed to be this short.”

“I can’t believe this is your dirty secret.”

Boyd raised his eyebrows, adjusting his belt. “What did you think it was?”

“I don’t know, scrapbooking? Ballroom dance? Secret piccolo prodigy?” Stiles tried to shimmy the massive wedgie out of his buttcrack, but it just slipped in further. God damn it. He was wearing way too many layers to go after it, at least two of them chainmail.

“Piccolo?” Boyd’s tone itself wasn’t threatening, but picking up a broadsword and sheathing it on his belt certainly was. It was much bigger than Stiles’ sword, that was for sure.

“Come on, dude. Do you really not see the irony of a literal werewolf LARPing? And not as a werewolf? You wouldn’t even need prosthetics!”

“It’s not roleplaying if you’re just being yourself.”

“Okay, but why roleplay when you’re already a badass? Let’s face it, if anyone here should be roleplaying, it’s the pack human who doesn't have superpowers.”

“They aren't superpowers!” Derek’s usual reflex response came from behind the curtain, and then he added, “Are you sure you didn’t give me Kira’s outfit?”

Boyd rolled his eyes like they were the ones being unreasonable here. “Yes, I’m still sure. Come out.”

Stiles couldn’t actually hear it, but it was like a sixth sense by now; he knew Derek sighed before yanking back the crookedly hanging sheet that served as a dressing room in a corner of their massive canvas pack tent.

“So, the skirt is supposed to be this short.”

Stiles slapped his hand over his gleeful smile so hard he might’ve broken his own nose. Derek glared. Boyd was as unflappable as usual.

“Kilt. And yes, it’s supposed to look like that.”

Derek looked down at his outfit, at the stitched leather vest and gauntlets, the plaid kilt (that did look a little short over his knees), and very...rustic boots.

“I look ridiculous.”

“No, you don’t.” Boyd held out a small jar that said RED on the lid. “You just don’t get the full effect without the face paint.”

Stiles squeaked behind his hand, while Derek somehow managed to glare harder.

“No. No face paint. Stop laughing,” he ordered, pointing a threatening finger at Stiles that really wasn’t the least bit threatening while he was blushing up to his ears under that beard.

“Braveheart,” Stiles whispered giddily in response, and Derek’s eyes actually flashed red.

“Don’t think that fake chainmail can protect you from me.”

Stiles snorted. “Big words from a man in a dress.”

“It's a kilt,” Derek growled through his teeth.

“Guys,” Boyd interrupted with a sigh. “Derek, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I can try to find you something else.” He said it so sincerely that it was almost believable that he didn’t know exactly what kind of guilt trip he was laying down.

It’d taken five years for the pack to get an honest answer to, “What do you want to do for your birthday this year, Boyd?” and none of them were going to refuse him anything on this, admittedly, unexpected adventure they now found themselves on. At the Beacon County Fairgrounds, of all places. Even Lydia had joined in, looking like a flawless Joan of Arc in her armor, because if she did anything, she did it perfectly and with a shocking dedication to historical accuracy, apparently.

So no, Derek was not going to make Boyd find him something else. Stiles communicated this with his eyes, and Derek quickly composed himself.

“It’s fine,” he said with a little less attitude, while still looking a little like a pouting toddler. Stiles wanted to pinch his adorable pink cheeks.

“Seriously, we can leave, it’s cool,” Boyd continued, laying it on thick.

“We’re staying.” Derek grabbed the jar of face paint out of his hand and unscrewed the lid, frowning down at it. “What do I do.”

“Uh, I think you’re supposed to paint your face,” Stiles suggested shittily, and when Derek glared, he added, “just a guess.”

He felt a little bit bad when Boyd gave him a knock it off look. Boyd was usually the adult in the room.

“I’ll do it.” He took the jar back. “Don’t worry, it’ll look badass.” He dipped a finger into the paint, raised it to Derek's face, and then Scott appeared at the open tent flap, eyes wide with panic. His chainmail was crooked and all bunched up in some places, while still stretched near to the point of breaking in others.

“Dude, can you help me with this? I think it might be backwards, but I don’t know how to get it off without ripping it!”

Boyd was up in an instant, maybe actually supernaturally fast, because he'd put a shocking amount of work into helping them with their costumes, and he was meticulous about taking care of them. He dropped the jar of paint into Stiles’ hand without thought, and followed Scott outside their big canvas tent.

He just left.

Just gave Stiles that kind of power, and left him unsupervised.

“I'll do it myself,” Derek said, but Stiles was waiting for it and immediately countered with,

“Got a mirror hidden somewhere up your kilt?” The only mirrors on the fairgrounds he knew of were in the constantly-in-use porta potties across the field. Boyd was part of a hardcore LARPer guild-thing, no non-emergency tech or modern comforts allowed.

“I’ll take my chances without one.”

“And ruin Boyd's hard work? Just stand still, I got this.”

Stiles couldn't predict what he would do with that cheap shot, but apparently the value of Boyd's happiness on his birthday hadn’t dwindled, because Derek sighed and resigned himself to his fate. Aside from a growled warning of,

“Don’t draw a dick.”

“I’m not gonna draw a dick.” Stiles was almost offended by the assumption, but mostly disappointed that he was juuuust too good of a person to actually do that to Derek.

“And don’t do Braveheart.”

“I’m not gonna do Braveheart. Trust me, it’ll be cool.”

Derek didn’t look like trusted him at all, but Stiles ignored him, dipped two fingers in the red paint, and dragged it down the right side of Derek’s face, from his hairline down onto his neck. He held out his hands to signal that his masterpiece was complete, and that Derek could unclench.

Derek blinked at him, deadpan. “You did Thor, didn’t you.”

“Yeah, I did, and you look awesome.” He actually did look awesome, and Stiles was really hoping chainmail could hide a boner.

Derek considered it for a brief moment, like he was trying to picture it on himself and reluctantly agreed. Then he gave Stiles a shitty smile, and plucked the paint out of his hand. “Your turn.”

That took the wind right out of his sails.

“Actually, I think I’m good,” Stiles stammered, debating how embarrassing it would be to make a grab for the paint and miss when Derek inevitably pulled it out of reach with werewolf speed. Derek liked to pretend he was the unaffected adult when others were around to witness, but he had a pranking streak a mile wide where Stiles was concerned. He was petty and he was ruthless.

“Come on, don’t you want the full effect?” He asked patronizingly.

“I think the effect is plenty full enough already.” Stiles took a step back and Derek followed. Oh god, he was going to write kick me across his forehead, or virgin, he could probably fit ask me about my ED if he used his pinky.

“Look, I already look dumb enough, I don’t need a poop emoji on my forehead to make it worse.”

Crap, now he was giving him ideas.

Derek rolled his eyes. “You look fine, hold still,” he said, pressing his palm against Stiles’ jaw to hold his head, and Stiles realized just how much power Derek really did hold here. No mirrors, no way to check his face, he could only feel what Derek was doing and hope he wasn’t drawing daisies down his cheek.

“Don’t draw a dick,” he joked weakly, and Derek’s face softened.

“I’m not going to draw a dick. Turn your head.”

Stiles obliged and stared at the back of the tent, at the sun peaking through the canvas, while he waited for Derek to make up his mind. Whatever he was planning, it was taking forever, and Stiles was only getting more nervous about it. Oh god, it was going to be complex, and Stiles was going to look ridiculous.

“You know it’s not supposed to be the Mona—”

He couldn’t have finished even if he’d been able to overcome the shock of Derek pressing his right hand against the side of Stiles’ face, this time with something definitely wet between them; Derek’s thumb was laying across his mouth, and Stiles was pretty sure trying to talk would only get face paint on his teeth too.

Stiles blinked at him through his fingers, processing the fact that he was definitely going to have a giant red handprint over half his face.

Derek pressed a little harder, like he was trying to seal it, before letting go completely, leaving Stiles’ face cold where his hands had been. He stepped back, considering his work, and nodded to himself.

Stiles stared at him, still processing, trying to cobble together a reaction. Having Derek Hale’s hands on his face wasn't a situation he'd prepared himself to experience in this lifetime.

“I feel like that orc guy with the handprint,” he tried, and Derek blinked at him. “Lord of the Rings? Killed Boromir? Nevermind.”

Derek screwed the lid back on the jar of face paint, trying to keep as much red off the jar as he could when his entire hand was covered.

“Lurtz,” he said quietly. “And he’s Uruk-hai.”

This time it was Stiles who could only blink. “Wait, what?”

Derek looked up, clearly regretting his words and trying to look innocent.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, you just corrected my Lord of the Rings reference.”

This time Derek huffed, brushing it off. “It’s not hard to tell the difference, anyone who’s seen the movies would know that.”

“I didn’t even know you knew the movies existed!”

“They were everywhere when I was in middle school, how would I not have seen them? Everyone saw them.”

“Yeah, but not everyone knows the name of that one specific Uruk-hai who barely has any lines! Wait,” Stiles’ entire life was shifting, “did you read the books too?”

Derek looked back down at the jar in his hands and almost muttered, “He wasn’t in the books.”

Stiles gaped.

He knew Derek had lots of books, read constantly, but it was always historical stuff. Very specific subjects, like Russian playwrights of the late 19th century, or journals of a guy who owned a farm in Idaho in 1934, biographies of people who really didn’t contribute to any great change in the world—that kind of boring stuff. Never anything actually interesting. Never fantasy.

Derek continued to fiddle with the face paint, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh my god, you’re totally a fantasy nerd, aren’t you?”

He continued to avoid eye contact.

“This is totally your kind of place, isn’t it? Why didn’t you make your costume?” The only reason he was stuck with the kilt was that he’d been too stubborn and standoffish throughout the entire process for Boyd to get chainmail and armor that would fit him properly (and he refused to eyeball it, he was adamant that his pack not look sloppy among his LARPing peers).

“I didn’t want to.”

“You did. You totally did. And we are totally coming back next year so you can look like the badass alpha you are. Something about the kilt just doesn’t say power.” Stiles took a step back and squinted at him, trying to picture a quintessentially Derek outfit. “I think you need a crown.”

Derek huffed, but he looked like he was blushing again.

“Seriously, man, if you want to do this, you should. Boyd would be thrilled. Or, as thrilled as he ever is. It’s hard to tell with him sometimes.” Stiles was pretty sure he was having a good time with them all there, but Boyd’s happy smirk was pretty close to his you guys are unbelievably stupid smirk. Though with everything he’d put up with throughout this whole process, his current smirks probably fell somewhere in between.

Derek picked at the red paint on his hand for a second, then, “Maybe.”

“Not a no!” Stiles crowed, and Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles could tell he was secretly happy.

Probably.

Stiles had his handprint on his face, the guy better be happy.

Hearing a break in their conversation (god, the entire pack could probably hear them outside), Kira shouted for them to hurry up, and Derek started to look a little nervous. Stiles clapped him on the shoulder, and handed him his sword.

“Let’s do this. I saw seven Highlanders on the walk from the car alone, you’ve got work to do.”

That got a grin out of him as he accepted the sword, even if it did have an eyeroll accompanying it.

“Get used to it, man, once we get your cloak on, you are literally a hotter Connor MacLeod. Like him and Thor in one. You’re going to have a fanclub of elven barmaids following you around.”

“My dream,” Derek deadpanned, clearly the last thing he wanted. Stiles couldn’t say that was a problem he’d personally had, but having witnessed it in Derek’s life, yeah, it did look like it got annoying when it wasn’t wanted.

“Don’t worry, my dear alpha.” Stiles unsheathed his sword with some difficulty—it was longer than he thought and it hit the top of the tent, then the main post, then his own knee. He would definitely be sticking to his bat and mountain ash for any actual fighting. “If anyone tries to touch you, I’ll challenge them for your honor. And I’ve fought a literal dragon before, all these nerds are going down.”

“It wasn’t a dragon,” Derek dutifully countered, as usual.

“It was basically a dragon.”

#sterek #ficlet #150 prompt #and you know there's going to be an actual supernatural threat somewhere in this situation #and the pack has to fight it off in armor #and they become celebrities within this crowd #welcomed back like kings every year #and derek eventually gets his perfect outfit sorted out #allison is a badass legolas-looking archery goddess #lydia continues to be joan of arc #kira makes some really badass samurai-inspired look #and stiles likes to think of himself as aragorn #the badass ranger among a lot of fantasy races

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thesffcorner · 4 years

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The Mandalorian: Season 1

The Mandolorian is an 8 episode series on Disney+, written and produced by John Favreau. It stars Pedro Pascal as the titular Mandolorian who I will be referring to as his actual name, Din Djarin for the rest of this review, rather than the fan-name Mando.

Djarin is a bounty hunter, working for the Guild in the early days of the New Republic. His story starts as he takes on an under the table job to retrieve a package; however as things tend to go in this situation neither the package nor the people who are after it are what they seem, and Djarin must decide if it’s worth risking his life and reputation to protect it.

Before the show aired, I wasn’t very interested in seeing it; I hadn’t seen any trailers or buzz and I was still under the impression that it would follow Bobba Fett. Seeing the first episode I wasn’t sold on it either; I was disappointed that we were not following Fett, and that we were stationed after the events of ROTJ. However, I pushed through, and my opinions evolved significantly over the course of the show’s 8 episodes.

Overall, I enjoyed the show. There were some issues, and I can definitely see areas where Favreau can improve for next season, but I think season 1 was a solid starting point. My main complaint is that the season was too short, and even at 8 episodes, it still felt like it spent a lot of time on unnecessary filler. We’ll talk more about this, and other specific issues in the episode breakdown, but if you just want my opinion on if you should see it or not with no spoilers it’s this: If you like the Clone Wars, Rebels or the Solo film, you will like this. If you don’t, you probably won’t. Take that as you will.

So let’s get into this episodes, and I’ll end with some general thoughts and desires for season 2.

Episode 1: The Mandalorian

This episode is written by John Favreau and directed by Dave Filloni, the show-runner for my personal favorite Star Wars series, Star Wars Rebels.

We start with Djarin looking for more work from his Guild leader, Greef Karga, who offers him an extremely well paid, unsanctioned job, to track down a valuable package for some former Imperials. The man, just called the Client, strongly hints that he wants the package dead, and in return he is paying in Beskar, metal important to the Mandalorians.

The package is located on Arvala 7 (yes, I did look that up), and Djarin gets some help on his way, from a vapor farmer named Kuili, and another contractor, assassination droid IG-11. Djarin ends up shooting IG, after the droid attempts to kill the package, which turns out to be a child, the same race as or very loved Yoda.

If you have seen Rebels, than I think you will be very familiar with Filloni’s direction and style; unfortunately, for me this felt like one of the weaker episodes in Rebels. Even when Rebels was great, it suffered from an uneven tone; it could never quite decide if it was a kids or adult show, and as such the tone could fluctuate between really dumb and cringey comedy to serious and violent death in the span of a few minutes.

This is no different; there is some goofy humor, some characters that straddle the line between funny and annoying, but also some darkness, and good, subtle characterization.

The biggest issue this episode has (and it’s an issue the entire show never overcomes) is the pacing. It’s at once very slow, meticulously showing the loneliness and drudgery of being a bounty hunter and extremely fast, covering important character development and plot points in single montage.

Perhaps this is a flaw of Filloni, because what works in animation, doesn’t always work in live action. In Rebels, we could tolerate characters like Honda, we could swallow that characters teleport around and solve season ending issues in a conversation. Live action has a lot more constraints, suspension of disbelief is easier to break, so having character relationships develop at unnaturally fast paces or condensing what should be days if not weeks in a single 30 sec montage is a bit much.

I don’t want to make it sound like Filloni is a terrible director and this is some insurmountable flaw; Star Wars as a rule tends to not do well in developing its characters. Ever since a New Hope, where Luke was more distressed at Obi Wan dying, than his own aunt and uncle, or Leia losing her entire planet, the franchise has glossed over really important bits of storytelling (ahem, somehow Palpatine has returned).There is nothing as drastic in this episode, but it was still frustrating to have the first half of the episode so meticulously follow Djarin capturing the bounty and taking the job, and having the important parts like deciding to save the child or befriending Kuili take up 5 minutes.

On the positives, in a short time we get a really good idea of what kind of person we are following; Djarin is impatient, headstrong, a loner, someone who is very honorable, but doesn’t like showing it. We also get a good sense of the villain; Werner Herzog as the Client is a mix of a staunch and imperial like Tarkin, while also being fascinated by cultures like Thrawn.

An ok start the show, but definitely one of the weaker episodes in the season.

Episode 2: The Child

Episode 2 is written by John Favreau and directed by Rick Famuyiwa. After rescuing the child from the compound, Djarin finds his ship being stripped for parts by the Jawa. He goes after them, but when he manages to get to the top of their ship he gets blasted away. He has a dream about the day his parents died, and is rescued again by Kuili who offers to help him get his parts back. To do so, he must steal an egg from a mudhorn, and almost dies, except the child, using the force creates enough of an opening for Djarin to finish the animal off.

This episode is a vast improvement over episode 1; it has more action, more character development, more intrigue and a much more even pace. It’s still a slow episode, and we don’t learn much about any of the characters, but enough of what happens kept me engaged and interested.

However, this was the first episode where I noticed a bit of an issue with Dij Djarin’s characterization, an issue the show never really resolves.

I think, Pedro Pascal is too old to be playing Djarin. Alternatively, the writing of Djarin doesn’t match the age and gravitas of Pascal. Let me explain.

In episode 1 we learn that Djarin is impatient. This is fine. What is less fine is for Djarin to be brash and impatient enough to think he can a) take on an entire moving castle of Jawa by himself, b) threaten and shoot at the Jawa who already beat him once, c) tret the Jawa like pests even though Kuili and the Jawa themselves already demonstrated that they are intelligent and perfectly capable of negotiating.

These are not the actions of a man in his 40’s who is impatient; this comes off as someone who is too big for his birches, someone young and inexperienced and full of prejudice. A Luke Skywalker or Ezra Bridger, not Pedro Pascal at the same age as Qui Gon Jinn. It’s fine that Djarin is close minded and biased against Imperials and droids; it doesn’t make any sense that an experienced Mandlorin bounty hunter could speak Jawa and yet somehow not know anything about them.

This gets worse in the next episode where the other Mandalorians pick on Djarin and treat him like this young man who got lucky to be paid instead of an experienced warrior of decades. Even the Armorer treats him like a newbie; he doesn’t have a signet, he doesn’t have a jet-pack, and yet he’s in his mid 40’s!

Again, this isn’t just a problem of Favreau; he tends to write immature men after all, seeing as his biggest success to date is Tony Stark. It was also a problem in the prequels where I constantly got the sense that Ewan McGregor was playing a very different character from the one Lucas had written and Sir Alex Guinness portrayed. I just wish we would have gotten more reasons for why Djarin acts so inconsistently and why he’s only impatient and inconsiderate when the plot needs him to be.

The rest of the episode is fine. I liked the dynamic between him and Kuili; Kuili himself is great character, a world weary man who has worked a lifetime for his freedom and has a deep understanding of the value of life, peace and even money. I honestly wish he was in the show more; the best scenes are the ones of him and Djarin interacting. The child was also adorable; trying to heal Djarin, protecting him from the mudhorn. It was a slow build to Djarin increasingly caring more and more about it, even though he has no idea what he’s doing.

A vast improvement over episode one, even though it’s not perfect.

Episode 3: The Sin

Episode 3 is written by John Favreau and directed by Deborah Chow. Djarin returns to Navaro and hands the child to the Imperials, getting a full payment of Beskar for his troubles. He asks what is to happen to the child, which is a violation of the Guild’s rules, and draws the suspicion of Karga and all the other bounty hunters. Djarin gets a new set of armour from the Armourer, as well as a new job from Karga. However he can’t make himself leave, and he returns to rescue the child just in time, as it is being experimented on. Every bounty hunter in Navaro attacks him, but the Tribe of Mandalorians come to his aid, and he shoots Karga before getting away.

This is probably my second favorite episode of the show; it was the point where things finally clicked and I got an idea of what the stakes and the story would be. It’s a little unfortunate that it took 3 episodes for that to happen, but it’s better late than never.

This episode brought in some more mystery about the child; we still know nothing about what it is or where it came from, other than it being around 50 years old. The Client very clearly wants the child dead, while Dr. Pershing, the collaborator wants it alive for some kind of experiment. The child really isn’t the focus in this story, even if it is what everyone wants and around which the plot revolves; the real focus is Djarin’s evolving relationship to the child and himself.

I think this was the best development Djarin got in the season (outside of the finale); we see his slow bonding to the child, feeling guilty and upset over handing it over. His relationship to the child mirrors his own past; he was a founding, the Mandalorians saved him from the Great Purge, and he already has a history of caring for foundlings, making sure all of his extra Beskar is given to them, and essentially following the Way so he can help more foundlings. Him giving the child away is a direct betrayal to his own sense of self, even if he is a loner who has no idea how to take care of another being, let alone a baby.

We learn too, in the scene I mentioned before that Djarin is an outsider even among the other Mandalorians. He isn’t liked or respected; he is made fun of and challenged by others who consider him a traitor or weak. Whether this is because he’s a foundling and thereby not a ‘true’ Mandalorian (which doesn’t really make much sense considering what we find out later) or his vocation/personality, it clearly affects him enough to act and live the way he does. His constant pretending that he is heartless is challenged both by Kuili and especially by the child, for which he’s willing to risk his life and the secrecy of the Tribe.

This is all basic stuff; none of this is groundbreaking, but it was still nice to see Djarin evolve as a character. If there is one theme in this show it’s fatherhood and community; Djarin needs people around him, he needs a clan, and this episode is the first step for him to accept that.

The rest of the episode was great; it had a nice pace, it was full of tension, I liked the Armourer who gets a bit more personality as well as Greef Karga, who I have a soft spot for, even if he betrays Djarin twice in this episode. The action scenes were well shot and choreographed, I loved the Mandalorians at the end and overall it’s a big step up from the previous 2 episodes, and definitely one of the better ones in the season.

Episode 4: Sanctuary

Episode 4 is written by John Favreau and directed by Bryce Dallas Howard. It’s also my favorite episode in the show.

In an attempt to get some heat off of him after Navaro, Djarin lands on Sorgan, a sparsely populated forest planet. He runs into an ex-rebel shocktrooper, Cara Dune, and gets approached by 2 farmers who need help in dealing with a gang of Klatoonian raiders. What the farmers neglect to mention is that the raiders have an AT-ST fighter, and Cara and Djarin have to quickly train the farmers to learn how to fight the raiders. After freeing the village, Djarin contemplates leaving the child with Omera, whom he has some chemistry with, but a bounty hunter tracking the child arrives and tries to murder it, at the last moment stopped by Cara. Realizing that as long as the Client is hiring bounty hunters, the child will never be safe, Djarin leaves the planet.

I love this episode; it’s the perfect mix of humor and serious action, it has excellent character writing and pacing and it’s a complete story. It’s up there with some of the best Rebels and Clone Wars episodes and I wish the rest of the series was of this calibre.

One issue that I haven’t yet mentioned, was that many people didn’t like that in episodes 1-3, the only female speaking roles was the Armourer, and there were few to no female characters even as extras in the background. I could somewhat excuse that in 1 and 2, since a lot of those episodes were following Djarin alone in deserts and caves, but in 3 I was starting to get annoyed too. The Armourer is cool and important as a character, but she is a tertiary supporting character at best. So it took 4 episodes to get some women in this show, and thank god they are all great.

Cara Dune is absolutely flawless; I loved that she was a rebel shocktrooper, I loved her relationship with Djarin and sparring partners and quick friends who shared a lot of experiences by virtue of living through the war. She is competent, looks powerful, is noble and stoic while still having a lot of personality in her limited dialogue. It takes her no time to start making fun of Djarin’s dumb decisions, and I love that for her.

Omera is the opposite; she is quiet, kind and secretive. She has a lot of knowledge and understanding and clearly has a past involving trauma, but we never have to see it; it’s her acting and dialogue that captures it perfectly. She is intuitive, picks up on Djarin’s insecurities and worries about the child and his choices, and the chemistry between them felt natural, even if they don’t spend a lot of time together.

Unfortunately, this episode also starts my second big problem with Djarin, which I’ll call, wait were Mandalorians always like this?

First off, I had no idea Mandalorians can’t take their helmet off. The characters in both Rebels and Clone Wars take their helmets off all the time, especially when they are around family and friends; they only really keep them on when in battle or around enemies. Even in the prequels Jango takes the helmet off.

At first I thought they aren’t supposed to let anyone take the helmet off, as in without their consent like in battle. That’s when they get disgraced and can never put it back on. But no, apparently it’s ever, under any circumstances. Really? Like they can never let their loved ones see their face? How does that make any sense?

I saw people comparing the helmets to head scarves, like hijabs or nqabs, but people can take those off you know? When women are at home, and in front of their partners and families and female friends. They don’t wear the scarves forever, even at their own house!

Which makes me wonder, do Mandalorians not have partners or kids? Even if we follow the stupid retcon (which we’ll talk about) from this show, and Mandalore isn’t a people but a creed, that would imply that all the Mandalorians are foundlings. But if that’s true, than why is Djarin treated like an outsider, and so insistent on helping the foundlings if all Mandalorians are foundlings? And even if that’s the case, there’s no mention of Mandalorians being like Jedi, and being banned from having partners and children.

If they can have partners and children how does that work? Outside of the obvious, how do you have sex in armour (unless it’s just the helmet and the rest of the armour is irrelevant), do their partners and kids never see their face? Or is it that once you find a partner you take the helmet off and never put it back on? Or do not all Mandalorians follow the Way and the ones who don’t are the ones who marry and have kids?

None of that makes ANY sense, and I hope that they explain it at least a little in season 2, because as is, it’s not only dumb, but it also contradicts everything we know about Mandalorians from other Star Wars properties.

Outside of that, everything else this episode was great. The action was fun, the dialogue was funny, I liked the training montage, I liked Cara and Djarin’s fight, I liked the child being a child, the conclusion to the story, everything. It’s the best episode of the season, and unfortunately, only the season finale comes close to it.

Episode 5: The Gunslinger

Episode 5 is written and directed by Dave Filoni. While leaving Sorgan, Djarin is attacked by a bounty hunter and during their battle, Djarin’s ship gets damaged. He’s forced to make a pit-stop on Tatooine, where he leaves his ship for repairs with Peli Moto. To pay for the repairs he takes a job with Toro Calican, an aspiring bounty hunter who is tracking Fennec Shard, a notorious assassin. If he catches her he can enter the Guild and Djarin can keep all the money. However, things aren’t ever easy, especially after Toro learns that Djarin and the child are worth a lot more to the Guild than Fennec herself.

This episode is about the same quality as episode 1, but it suffers from a different kind of issues. The pacing is much better, and there is some actual tension while Toro and Djarin try to find and catch Fennec. However, after everything in 3 and 4 this feels like pure and simple filler. In an 8 episode season, that’s inexcusable. Making a pitstop on Tatooine accomplishes nothing, it’s just fan-service; there isn’t even character development for Djarin; he ends the episode exactly as he started it.

Fennec Shard is a waste of character and a waste of Ming Na Wen. The marketing for this show made it seem like she would play this massive, important role, but all she does here is shoot at Djarin, get her ass kicked, make an incredible rookie mistake in telling Toro all she knows about Djarin and then gets killed. Even if she’s not dead by the time season 2 rolls around, nothing about her character interests me; for a super assassin who worked for the biggest criminal guilds in the galaxy, she gets taken down by a rookie bounty hunter who can’t shoot straight.

Toro likewise was a wasted character. In a way I see what Filoni was maybe trying to do with him; if Djarin had treated him better and with a little more respect, Toro wouldn’t have turned on him, except the way it came off is that Djarin was right to treat him like shit, because Toro betrayed him when he realized he could use Djarin to get into the Guild. So what was the point?

Peli was adorable and actually had the strongest character arc in that she started the show with wanting to charge Djarin extra for the child, only to fall in love with it by the end, and treat it like her own baby. It was cute and funny, but it wasn’t worth a whole episode. If this was an episode in a longer series I’d have no issue with it; as is it just broke the flow of the show and achieved nothing.

Episode 6: The Prisoner

Episode 6 is written by Chris Yost and Rick Famuyiva and directed by Rick Famuyiva. It’s also my least favorite episode of the season.

Needing credits, Djarin accepts a job with a former crew mate, Ran, who wants him, a former Imperial sharpshooter Mayfield, brawler Burg, droid pilot Q9-0 (Zeroes) and his ex-girlfriend Xian to break a prisoner out of a New Republic droid-manned prison transport. Tensions in the crew are high, and escalate after Xian ends up killing a human pilot on board the transport who activates a New Republic beacon. The crew trap Djarin in the prisoner’s cell (the prisoner being Xian’s brother Qin, who Djarin helped put in jail), and Djarin takes the crew members out one by one, until it’s just him and Qin. He gets Qin back to Ren and as Qin is about to go after him, New Republic X-Wings, following the beacon Djarin placed on Qin arrive and destroy the station.

I can see what this episode is going for; it’s a Cowboy Bebop style, space western, and again, in theory, there’s nothing wrong with Djarin joining his old crew for a job and things going south. It could have been a character building moment, to see how far Djarin has come, from associating with dishonest killers and thieves, to hunting bounties for the New Republic. But even more than the previous episode, this one is filler, and it’s made worse by some truly bizarre casting choices and dialogue, as well as a bewildering ‘twist’ at the end.

Let’s start with the twist. Why would Ren PAY Djarin, let him leave, THEN send Qin after him? It’s not a Guild job, clearly, seeing as Djarin has been barred from the Guild and they are breaking into a freaking New Republic prison, so why wouldn’t they just… shot him as he’s on the platform and let his body fall into space? Answer? Because I guess it looked cooler this way.

Second, the crew. God I found most of these people insufferable. Mayfield was a cartoon character; he kept wildly flip flopping between bad-ass villain and incompetent comic relief, and I couldn’t tell if his goading of Djarin to take off his helmet was supposed to sound like he was hitting on Djarin, or they just didn’t realize it? It reminded me of John Cena’s character in Trainwreck, and I don’t think it was supposed to be a callback.

Then we have Zeroes and Burg who are completely nondescript bad guys (although considering how bad of a pilot Djarin is I was glad to see some good piloting for a change). Xian was a can of worms I’m not sure I even want to unpack. First, why give her and Qin Chinese names, but have white actors play them? Second when are we going to stop with the all Twi’leks are sexualized perverts/slaves/are completely insane? I thought the whole point of Disney taking over the SWU was to eliminate this kind of racist and sexist shit, and yet here I am again, in 2019 forced to watch this horribly written fetish-fulfillment on my TV.

I hated Xian as a character more than I’ve hated anything else in a while, and that’s saying something, because I’ve seen TLJ.

There were some good bits in this episode; the child hiding around the ship from Zeroes, and thinking he killed him with the force; Djarin asking the pilot for his name and trying to diffuse the situation; thinking to put the tracker on Qin. Even the concept itself was good, and I wouldn’t mind the same episode just with characters that are actually interesting, instead of all these insufferable stereotypes. The show really drops the ball with these 2 episodes, so I was honestly glad I only had the finale left.

Episode 7: Reckoning

Episode 7 is written by John Favreau and directed by Deborah Chow. Djarin gets a message from Greef who has survived their last encounter; he wants the Client gone so the Imperials who have taken over Navaro leave, and Djarin wants the bounty hunters to stop coming after him, so he accepts, and recruits Cara and Kuili to help. Kuili insist on bringing along the reprogrammed IG-11, who is now a nurse droid.

The group meets Greef and two bounty hunters and as they head back to the town, they get attacked by Mynocks. The child heals a wounded Greef, and he kills the two bounty hunters, who were there to help him betray Djarin. They devise a plan; Cara is to pretend she captured Djarin and the child, while Kuili takes the child back to the Djarin’s ship and barricades himself inside. Unfortunately, the Imperials sense the betrayal, Kuili is killed and the child taken, just as Moff Gideon arrives with a platoon of death troopers and kills everyone inside the compound including the Client.

I liked this episode though it is a bit uneven. The first half is spent with Djarin recruiting Cara and Kuili, while the latter is a rather tense standoff with the Client and subsequently Gideon. I liked that we got Cara and Kuili back, enjoyed the tension between Kuili who used to build Imperial weapons and Cara who fought for the Resistance.

What I didn’t like so much was the child randomly being jealous of Cara? Like he tries to crash the ship when she and Djarin are bonding over weapons, and then tries to choke her?

This is sort of a bigger problem for the show. We are 7 episodes in and we still know nothing about the child; we don’t know it’s species, why it is force sensitive, why the Imperials are after it, or even why it seems to randomly switch personalities. My further question is who exactly are the people after him? By this time, the First Order should already exist, especially if this takes place after the battle of Aquila, so is the Client First Order? Or Palpatine’s goon? Unaffiliated?

There is an extended montage that shows how Kuili reprogrammed and taught IG to be a nurse droid which was sweet, but wasn’t really necessary; I find it funny that this montage is longer than both the training section in ep. 4 and Djarin learning to ride in ep. 1.

The ending was appropriately a cliffhanger and I hate that they ended up killing Kuili’s character off; it was clear it would happen, especially after his fight with Cara, but it still sucks that they did it. I also didn’t like that they wasted the Client; he could have been a really interesting villain and Herzog is an excellent actor, but they never gave him a chance to do anything.

An objectively good episode, but not my favorite. I felt that more time could have been spent on building up Moff Gideon and the Client than Mynock attacks and training montages.

Episode 8: Redemption

Episode 8 is written by John Favreau and directed by Taika Waititi. After being captured by stormtroopers waiting for the order to bring the child into town, IG rescues it and shoots up Moff Gideon’s platoon. Gideon in return threatens the group to surrender, calling each member by name, which shocks Djarin because the only people who know his name would have died or at least been on his home planet during the Great Purge.

Gideon injures Djarin who tells the others to use the underground tunnels to get help and/or escape. IG stays with him, convincing him to remove his helmet to administer bacta to his head injury. In the tunnels the group finds the Armourer alone, as all other Mandalorians have been killed or escaped and she gives Djarin a jet-pack and his signet; a clan of two. She ordains the child a foundling and in accordance with the Way makes Djarin responsible for keeping it safe and returning it to its people.

The group uses an underground lava river to escape, and IG self-destructs to take out the ambushing stormtroopers. Gideon attacks them in his TIE fighter, and using the jet-pack Djarin manages to knock him down. The group says farewell, with Cara staying behind with Greef to help rebuild Navaro, while Djarin and the child leave. Gideon, having survived the crash uses the Darksaber to cut himself out of the fallen TIE and the season ends.

This is my second favorite episode behind Sanctuary; it’s action packed, tense and full of Waititi’s recognizable humor. The opening scene alone had me in stitches; that is by far the best use of stormtroopers in any Star Wars media, outside of that First Order SNL skit with Adam Driver.

We learn a decent amount in this episode; first that the Empire still has pockets of powerful followers, that Gideon and Djarin have some kind of past, that Gideon wants the child and most importantly that he has darksaber. How he has it we don’t know; he either took it from Kryze or is himself a Mandalorian.

Now, we get to the second wait, were Mandalorians always like this? I thought that the Mandalorians were a warrior race, but according to Waititi, they are a creed. This… doesn’t make sense. Why was there a civil war between the different clans? Why are there foundlings and not? How does one become a member of this creed, do you have to be a foundling? Or do you just have to follow the Way? Do all Mandalorians follow the Way? If anyone can be a Mandalorian if they follow the Way, then why can’t the child? I didn’t realize the foundlings also have to be Spartan-strong or else they don’t count.

Then we get to the helmet thing. Now, no LIVING being can see their face, so this confirms that not even their partner and children can see their face. WHY? What purpose does this serve? Why make it this dramatically ridiculous? I guess cause they liked the line ‘I’m not a living being’.

Waititi really enjoys taking established properties and spinning them on their head; in Thor Asgard was no longer a place, but a people, here Mandalorians aren’t a race they are the followers of a creed. But that doesn’t make sense if this creed has no rules or hs arbitrary rules that keep changing.

The rest of the episode was fine. Jrin completes his arc, but getting attached too IG, enough to be sad when IG self-destructs. I liked how insistent Cara was in saving him; a very soldier thing to do, and in general their friendship is excellent. I really hope this isn’t the last we see of her. The humor was also excellent, as it always is with Waititi and it was a good way to end the season.

Concluding Thoughts:

I feel like I always come off more negative than I mean to in all of my reviews, but it’s just because there are only so many ways I can say I liked this, this was well done, I loved this. I did I really enjoy this season; I can safely say that I love all the characters, Djarin and the child especially, I am very curious to learn more about Moff Gideon and his hipster top knot and I hope Cara Dune and Fennec Shard come back and have more to do.

I don’t have any theories about what the child is; I’ve heard people say that it’s a reincarnation of Yoda, that it’s the Force itself in a body (like Anakin, but double), that it’s a clone of Yoda from either the Clone Wars or even Palpatine’s experiments.

Personally, I’m more interested in learning more about Djarin, and how Bobba Fett ties in with his past considering it was his signet that Djarin gave to the child at the end. I also would like to visit or revisit some more worlds; perhaps see some worlds from the books like Aquila. There are rumours that characters like Lando and Ahsoka Tano might make an appearance, and while that would be neat, I don’t necessarily mind the lack of Jedi in the show.

As for the people working on the show, I think each director brought something to the table. I would love for Deborah Chow, Bryce Dallas Howard and Taika Waititi to return in season 2, though I’ve also heard Waititi is getting his own show.

Them’s my thoughts. If you got to the end, thank you for reading, and I might be back quite soon, because I would like to re-watch the Clone Wars before season 8 comes out later this year.

#the mandolarian #star wars #sw the mandalorian #moni talks #the mandalorian review

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dinobotglitch · 7 years

Text

Gently, It Is So

Fic/art trade with @citrus-art-and-life, who drew my daughter a super-duper cute Blades/Bumblebee picture that I will be screaming incessantly over for the next week.

SFW TFA Megatron/Optimus post-war cuddling and reassurance ficlet under the cut.

Life had taken some strange turns for Megatron before, but none more so than the events leading him to the current moment. There he was: laying on a spacious, almost decadent, berth with his arms curled around the narrow waist of a mech he had once sworn he would never befriend, much less fall in love with, staring out a panoramic window with a view of the newly rebuilt Kaon, on a peaceful Cybertron reformed for the better of everyone. Not just Autobots, not just Decepticons, but all of them at once.

It was more than he had ever dreamed could possibly happen. The best case scenario, in his mind, had always been complete control of The Commonwealth, which he would rule with an iron fist - starting with banishing any Autobot who refused to live under his regime like they had done to him and his Decepticons so long ago.

That was not the case though, and he had no idea how it had happened or what he should do next.

Should he try for more control? Things seemed fine as they were, surprisingly enough. It wasn’t perfect, what he had gained for Cybertron in teaming up with Optimus Prime, but it was worlds better than what Cybertron had had in the past.

Was further expansion of The Commonwealth necessary? He didn’t think so; they had a surplus of resources, and many communities once burdened by the needs of war were recovering well, which only improved resource collection and production. It would bring about a true Golden Age if things continued progressing so well, unlike the farce that he had torn down in his quest for the power to make his own vision a reality.

The Decepticons (now just called the military, he thought with some irony) were at ease, many of them taking well-deserved vacations or spending time teaching Autobots, who were generally just referred to as ‘civilians’ now, how to live with them despite each class’s differences. It was working to the extent that he didn’t fear another uprising on the horizon, and that was enough for the time being.

Frankly, he wasn’t sure if he needed to do anything at all.

“You’re thinking too much,” the sleepy mumble soothed his weary spark, as it always did nowadays. Megatron huffed but didn’t deny the statement.

“One of us has to do the thinking,” he teased instead, and was gratified by the soft, sensuous laugh that earned him. Fingers curled playfully over his belly, rubbing little circles over the armor plates and the mesh of his protoform alike while they inched up his torso.

While mapping out his frame one delicate caress at a time, Optimus roused himself further from recharge and indulgently asked, “And why is that?”

“Well, who knows what might happen if we’re both off in la-la land?” Megatron asked. “The world could end, or worse.”

It was playful, more of a joke than anything, and Optimus was always eager to respond in kind. The flicker of his EM field, full of affection and amusement, gave the red and blue mech away before he even onlined his vocalizer.

“That’s true enough, but I don’t think it should be you who does our thinking, in that case,” the mech in his arms countered, and gentle blue optics peeked up at him from under the edge of his helmet with a wicked glint that the warlord had grown to adore.

Megatron grinned cheekily and pulled Optimus up for a kiss before replying, “That only proves my point.”

“Smart aft,” Optimus griped, but the term was full of fondness rather than disapproval as he let himself be swept up in a couple more lazy kisses.

Strong, capable hands slid over Megatron’s cheeks as small, soft dermas caught his own for the next kiss and held him there. Optimus’s kisses were gentle, unhurried things, filled with the warmth of the sun, and the softness of the clouds, and a million other things that would make Megatron grumble about the absurdity of civilian language, but he adored them all the same.

To an extent, he had come to crave such attentions. It was still such an alien thought. Yet, for all that he enjoyed them, Megatron didn’t know if he would ever really get used to it. The careful, undemanding affection, the blanket of contentment that rested over them as one kiss bled into the next, the overwhelming assurance that this was Right and Good and he Deserved It - all of it was wonderful, but still put him a little on edge at times.

Luckily, Optimus seemed well-equipped to handle that.

“You still with me?” the smaller mech asked, drawing back from the nth kiss to look at him curiously. At some point, he had shifted to tuck his knees against the slight concave of Megatron’s stomach, and was pressed chest to chest with him in a near-perfect puzzle fitting.

“I am with you,” Megatron answered automatically. He was with Optimus, always.

That wasn’t what Optimus meant though, and his frown told Megatron he’d been caught.

“Then quit thinking so much, or start talking to me. If you want this to work, you have to help me understand what your problems are- no, don’t even start. Something’s bothering you again. Please tell me about it?”

It was the ‘please’ that did Megatron in. He could be cold, ruthless, if he needed to. He could lie his way out of almost any situation. But small courtesies like that, showing respect and consideration for his feelings and wants and needs by asking him calmly and kindly instead of demanding or forcing him, made Megatron crumple. Just a little, just enough.

“I… wonder if I deserve you,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “I’ve done some pretty terrible things - would still be doing some pretty terrible things if you weren’t keeping me in check, in all honesty. None of this could have happened without you.”

Optimus waited a second to see if he would continue before sighing (his usual precursor to blunt and often lengthy lectures on why Megatron was Wrong and how he could Fix That) and cupping Megatron’s cheeks again.

“Yes, you have. And I haven’t forgotten. But we agreed to work together - to be together - despite them. You told me you would change if it meant you could come home. I’m trusting you to do that. But you don’t have the right to wonder if you deserve me. That’s not your decision, Megatron. That’s my decision. I get to decide if you are worthy of being my partner and my mate. The only thing that you have control over is whether I deserve you as well.”

Optimus had a way with words that was honestly enviable. He didn’t even have to think about it. He just said what he felt and it somehow always managed to be exactly the right thing.

Megatron nodded.

“I understand. My apologies for trying to intrude on your territory, beloved.”

“I forgive you. Thank you for telling me your doubts.” A small kiss was placed on his olfactory sensor, then a bigger one on his dermas. “But you needn’t worry. I am here because this is exactly where I want to be.”

Megatron wasn’t completely sure where his life was headed anymore, and he had a lot of unanswered questions, but that singular reassurance, spoken clearly and confidently, was all it took to remind him that he didn’t need all the answers right away. For now, Optimus’s word was enough.

#megatron #optimus #megop #art trades #fluff #maccadam #tfa

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black-strike-otp · 7 years

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part 69

Weak by AJR just.... just fits that big aft so much I can’t... I can’t explain it any better than that.

Light barely registered in Nova’s optics. She blinked a moment before realizing that the florescent lanterns had been dimmed significantly to allow the natural darkness of the cave to fill the room. Even without the light she’d still easily be able to make her way through the cave structure though. With a combination of her acute senses and the fact she’d been left alone with Scorponok on the planet so often, she’d found time to explore the barren world with her company.

The planet was nearly as empty as she felt.

Looking around, she spotted Scorponok recharging half on Blackout’s leg. Her helm leaned back as she looked up to realize the imposing mech was sitting up, his servos wrapped around her and unclear dim crimson optics watching her.

“Did I wake you?” she whispered nervously.

He gave a little shake of his helm. “I haven’t been recharging very well lately,” he admitted.

Novastrike placed her servo against his chassis, right over his spark chamber. A softened rumble moved through his dark armor in small vibrations.

“Where’s Nighthawk and Infiltrator?” she inquired, gazing around the room. “Did they... leave?”

“No, Nighthawk chose to recharge in his spacecraft and Infiltrator joined him.”

The small femme gave a quiet nod of her helm in response. She couldn’t blame them. There was no place to recharge comfortably here. Blackout resorted to sitting up against a wall, Scorponok plopped wherever on the floor, and she got to be the spoiled most comfortable of all curled up in beloved’s servos.

Dropping her helm back down as well as her arm, she looked at her servos as she flexed her digits. She’d gotten somewhat used to the one not responding for a while that it felt alien to be able to adjust her digits once again.

Adjusting his digits, Blackout rubbed along the seams where her audio stacks met her helm and carefully down against the back of her neck and spine. A quiet purr escaped her, optics flickering as they grew softer.

“Are you alright?” he rumbled quietly.

The answer to that was easy, but not one she wanted to truthfully speak. She knew Neutroboost wanted her to feel guilt and shame over protecting Blackout; saving him, loving him, caring for him despite what he said. She didn’t, of course; not even a speck of hesitation questioned her thoughts in that manner.

She did regret not speaking up sooner to somebot. After all the dirty tricks, the lies, the jeers and horrible remarks, she was to blame for this. Guard was offline now. He was never coming back. No matter how much she willed to awaken from this terror of an illusion, this alternate realm, this was the makings of a ball that she allowed to kept rolling and growing until it crashed into them all and took out the one bot least deserving of it’s consequences.

It didn’t matter how many times she blinked, recharged and woke, hoped and daydreamed and prayed, he was not returning to them. She’d sentenced him to die.

Even if she could imagine for a brief nanoklik when her reluctant barrier was down that she could feel him close by; imagine his understanding gaze and the nod of forgiveness, it was just a hallucination of fantasy.

“Nova?”

She turned her optics back to Blackout. Comparing his expression from the very first time she saw him to now was light night and day. Pain riddled his optics; cutting deeper and far worse than physical.

The concern plaguing his face and fogging over his dull optics only grew as she remained quiet. A frown pulled upon his perfectly handsome faceplate as his ridges drew together.

“I miss him too,” he echoed in a sorrowful tone upon realizing she was not going to be the first to speak.

“Missing him doesn’t bring him back,” she bitterly snapped. Her own comment surprised her, but it didn’t seem to bother the dark armored mech in the least.

“I know. That doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to want him back, or yearn that things went differently.”

“It doesn’t exactly solve anything either. It just makes it hurt more.”

The obsidian mech tilted his helm slightly in consideration of this. “It does,” he finally consented, “But if you don’t allow yourself to go through the grief; if you bottle it up, it will only consume you more and draw out the hurt longer.”

Breathing in slowly, Novastrike let it out with a huff. “You sound like you’ve gone through this before.”

He grunted. “A few times,” he agreed. “Back when I felt a little more, talked too much. A bit like the me now. It seems I’m capable of growing backwards, rather than forward.”

Her tone somewhat more monotone, Novastrike dropped her helm and fumbled with her digits as she mumbled: “You can’t go backwards. You just learned what you forgot.”

“And then some,” Blackout agreed, relaxing.

Blinking rapidly at the tears collecting her vision, Nova let out a quiet hiccuping sound. “Do you think he’ll ever forgive- forgive me for what happened?”

Shocked by the sudden shift in emotion, Blackout pressed her a little tighter to his chassis. The audible hum of his spark so close to should have been more reassuring than it was. Snuffling, she pushed her face against the replaced pieces of armor. Strange odors wafted up to her; chemicals she didn’t recognize mixed with his own dangerous smell. The reverberating sounds moving through him bounced around in her chassis; his song seeming to play in her own frame.

“Dear, why would he forgive you for something you had nothing to do with?” Blackout whispered, rubbing his digits against her back.

“Because he died protecting me,” the little femme blubbered. “He told me- told me that it was- it was going to be okay but it’s not. It’s not okay.”

“He knew what he was doing, Nova,” he softly murmured while drawing circles over her back. “He wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t want to. Guard cared about you. He wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up over his actions. You couldn’t have stopped him from doing what he wanted to do if you tried. Sometimes... bots just act selflessly. And all we can do in response to their kind gesture is to remember them, strongly and as fondly as we can.”

Quiet sobs broke free of Novastrike’s frame. She hid her face with shame, muffling the sounds raking through her tiny form and causing her to quiver all over.

Humming gently, the giant mech cradled her carefully to himself. Although the small femme couldn’t see it, his own optics had an unnatural liquidy shine around them.

“It’s alright, darling,” he thickly murmured. “Just let it out. I’m here, I promise.”

Awakening from the restless recharge she’d managed to drift into, Novastrike looked around the room with blurry optics. For a nanoklik she had thought that Blackout had gone again, and a sickening sadness dwelled in her spark.

Then she went to move and nearly slid off his shoulder.

“Woah, careful there,” the mech stated with a soft-spoken voice of bewilderment as her frame flopped around.

“Nnng,” she drowsily grumbled, clutching on to the kibble armor protruding from his shoulder.

“Just hold on a nanoklik,” Blackout chuckled faintly, pushing her back on to his shoulder. “Better?”

Nova gave a raspy mewl in answer.

Picking up on the strong scents in the room, the white armored femme glanced over her shoulder to spot the seeker. A vibrant red adorning darker gunmetal grays and startling contrast white. Even his optics seemed to match his armor color; although it was somewhat difficult to tell with the semi-transparent amethyst glasses in the way.

The moment she twitched her audio receptor his way, one of his horns upon his helm seemed to mimic the action even though he wasn’t looking her.

She flicked her ear forward.

His horn helm followed the motion.

A quiet giggle escaped the little femme and Nighthawk looked up at her, offering a smile.

“Good morning Novastrike,” the medic warmly greeted.

Novastrike inclined her helm slightly. “Sir.”

“Still have your manners, even hanging around this behemoth?” the seeker teased.

“I’ve got manners,” Blackout grumbled.

“Yes, sir,” Nova stated with a grin.

Casting a glance of disagreement upon Blackout’s backside, the medic shook his helm slightly. His sharp digits seemed to be carefully adjusting and poking around something, from what the small femme could see from her position.

A memory flickered into her thoughts.

“Did you see to Blackout’s chassis yet, Nighthawk sir?” she anxiously murmured. “He had a... a pretty nasty-”

“I’m guessing you’re suggesting the crater he had in his chassis that exposed his spark chamber?”

The large mech stiffened slightly; his shoulder raising.

“Yes, sir.”

“I worked in that area a bit yesterday. Looked like you two got hit by some pretty big weapons; or run over by a really small variation of Astrotrain.”

She didn’t get the reference, but it seemed Blackout did as he made a snort and lowered his shoulders a fraction.

“How’s your arm functioning today?”

Experimentally, Novastrike curled her digits.

“Seems fine to me,” she commented.

“I’ll have a look at it after this.”

Sensing her unease somehow, Blackout’s graveling voice carried as he grumbled, “Don’t mind him; Nighthawk’s a perfectionist. He’ll annoy the frag out of you until he’s sure he’s gotten everything fixed down to the last detail.”

“Down to the last atom I can preserve,” agreed the medic proudly.

Leaning over Blackout’s shoulder slightly, Novastrike offered a small smile. “That’s very noble of you, sir.”

The seeker instantly went from being humble yet boisterous to bashful. He reached up to nervously scratch at one of his neck cables to wiping his brow, and then proceeded back to what he was originally doing.

“It’s my job.”

Nova drew her optic ridges together. “I don’t know, sir. I’ve met some medics who seem to enjoy giving bots a living agony than to help them. You seem like a true healer.”

“Young femme, those are not medics, those are tormentors and lunatics.”

“Does that mean the femme on the Rising Star was just a lunatic? OUCH! Watch it back there!”

“Oops, digit must have slipped,” Nighthawk sneered. “Don’t mock my former student. If she could be bothered to put up with you, I’d say she’s doing a fragging good job.”

“My scarred t-cog says otherwise.”

The seeker raised his optic ridge slightly, but didn’t question the matter.

Staring between the two mechs, Nova let out a brief snicker. “Have the two of you always been this... difficult with each other?”

“Yes,” Blackout growled.

“Always,” Nighthawk stated.

“Can’t you try being, I don’t know, a bit nicer?”

“Femme I assure you, I’m on my best behavior when a lady is present.”

Blackout snorted back laughter.

Tossing an accusatory glance at the mech’s backside, the crimson medic gave a short medic. “I’ll try harder to be more polite Novastrike, my apologies.”

Turning her helm, Novastrike pressed her mouth against Blackout’s cheek. “And I know you can do better, mister.”

An embarrassed grumble escaped the obsidian mech as he sideglanced away. There was a merry little laughter from Nighthawk in response. It wasn’t every day a bot got to see the dog of war flustered and weak in the knees; complacent beneath such a small femme’s request.

Adjusting her vision, Nova moved her gaze around the room. There, she spotted Scorponok with Infiltrator. The Predacon looking medic seemed to be quietly working on a surprisingly calm scorpion. She wondered if he’d been sedated. Even for Blackout, the bug could never manage to remain so still and silent while he cleaned him or patched him of wounds, and he never showed a particular preference for the medic on the Rising Star, either.

Though, maybe it was the official medic status he recognized and relented to. He may not have cared for the contact from the femme on the Rising Star, but he at least never tried to escape her as he did his master.

Mechs were weird.

“I’ll need to go back to that blasted outlet and see about getting some more armory plating,” Nighthawk commented unhappily as he frowned. “Some of these panels are just too battered to be reused.”

“I can-”

“No no, you just remain here and focus on recovery. We’ll never leave this place if you can’t do that much.”

Blackout vented sharply. “And trust you to find the right kind of material and armor grade?”

“I’m not a moron, Hound. I know exactly what to look for.”

“Oh yeah?” the obsidian mech mocked. “How are you going to pay for it?”

“Who said I’ll be paying?”

“Oooh~ Scary. The big bad jaguar coming out to play and steal some stuff.”

Nighthawk shrug. “Sometimes a bot has to do what he’s got to do to survive.”

Flattening her ears against her helm, Nova flung her arms from side to side. “Hey, wait, hold up a second. You said we’ll never leave this place if we can’t recover. Is that supposed to be the royal ‘we’ or an implied ‘we we’?”

Although the hulking ebony mech tried looking over at his shoulder to Nighthawk, he couldn’t quite manage it. The medic on the other servo, had a somewhat vain look on his face that Nova couldn’t explain the reason for.

“Why, I’d hate to barge in on your journey...” the scarlet seeker wistfully commented.

“Barge in? Are you kidding me- that’d be fantastic! Don’t you think Blackout? I mean- we’d probably be asking too much of you though. You’re a medic; your uses and talents could probably be used elsewhere.”

“Agreed,” Blackout quickly grunted.

The medic gave a pitiful sigh. “I guess you’re right,” he pouted. “I’ll just... continue searching for a meaning in my life. Roaming endlessly. Meeting bots I don’t even know. Going for days, weeks, months without conversation as I search for something to do... sigh.”

Dramatically, the seeker dropped his helm lower into his work after quite literally vocalizing the word ‘sigh’.

Turning to meet Blackout’s glance in her direction, Novastrike offered the most pathetic wide-optics she could offer.

“No, he grunted, “Absolutely not.”

“Blackout, he’ll get lonely.”

“He has a dragon with him for Primus’ sake Nova, he’ll be fine.”

“But what if we need help? Or he needs help? Or he gets lonely?”

“He’ll send us some mail for all I care,” the dark armored mech glowered. “The answer’s no.”

Meanwhile, the medic was grinning to himself. Let the femme play his card for him. Perfect idea.

“But Blaaaccckkkooouuuttt,” Nova whined, placing her servos against his helm as she leaned against him. “Pretty pretty please? You have to admit, having a medic around would be super helpful!”

The huge mech kept flickering his optics away and then back. Nova could tell he was inwardly sweating bullets, trying to resist.

“Please?” she pleased, lower lib wobbling.

“Nova...”

“Please?”

Blackout vented shortly. “Femme, your begging is going to stop a mech’s spark. Could you try toning down the hurt tone, imploring beautiful blue optics, and the cute face?”

“Is that a ‘no’?” Nova whimpered, sniffling.

He groaned loudly.

“Blackout?”

“Fine. Yes. Whatever makes you happy,” he muttered.

“Yay!” she squeaked, kissing his face. “You won’t be sorry!”

“You’re cleaning up after him,” he teased.

“Can do, handsome devil.”

A quiet snicker escaped Nighthawk from behind. “Soft spark,” he barely spoke above a whisper.

“Shut up,” Blackout grumbled, grinning as Nova nestled against his neck cables. He placed his servo across his chassis in order to reach up and stroke her backstrut.

“Novastrike, slayer of the Hound and resurrector of a the tender-sparked mech,” Nighthawk mocked lightly.

Blackout shoved his elbow back, knocking Nighthawk roughly in his own shoulder.

“Hey!” the medic growled with annoyance.

“I said shut up,” Blackout distractedly commented, chuckling as the little femme nuzzled against his neck cables.

Sourly glaring, the medic sniffed rudely in response as he went back to what he had been doing, trying his best to work around the shifts in armor plating as Blackout snickered and prodded the little femme teasingly while she giggled.

#quid pro quo au #OTP AU #OTP Lit #Cute OTP #Sad OTP #OTP Friends

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k-thequeen-writings · 5 years

Text

fandom Quest ch 6

Where’s My Epic Background Music

The Promised Day had finally arrived for Katy, Layla, and Kate. The plan would work, Kate would take the throne and rule Othos. Sadly for her, it would be without her love, but Katy knew better. Katy had gotten them on the list to the dance/fundraiser under false identities so they wouldn’t have to worry as much.

Katy’s dress was a deep red with gold details on the chest, a slit in the skirt, long sleeved, and backless. There was a small area between her breasts that could be seen by whoever, but there was zero chance of anything happening even if she did jumping jacks. Her blonde hair was down and curled, and her makeup was fairly basic with eyeliner, eyeshadow, and lip gloss. The gold eyeshadow that contrasted with her Caribbean green eyes and red lip gloss were the only pieces that stood out.

Kate wore a royal blue gown, fitting for her role and title. The back was crossbody and silver, which was the one part on the dress that stood out. The dress dipped down fairly far in the front but the skin and cleavage that could be seen was minimal, as the dip wasn’t much more than a sliver of an area. Her hair was in a bun and her make up was simple as well, having gone with nothing more than black and silver eyeshadow to match her blue eyes and a natural-colored lipstick.

Layla wore an elegant light pink dress with tulle as the main material, two spaghetti straps arching over her shoulders and down her naked back. The pink dress also showed cleavage, but her slip was wider than Kate’s and ended inches below her breasts where it met with a pink sash that circled her figure. There was still no chance of anything being glimpsed. Her brown hair was pulled over one shoulder and curled into loose beach waves with minimal makeup to add to her brown eyes. She didn’t need it at all, being a vampire, but both Kate and Katy said she would stand out too much with her supernatural beauty.

Since the girls knew they’d be fighting, they didn’t want their makeup to smudge, and if it did they didn’t want to look like a complete psycho once their armor came off. Katy didn’t actually mind if it did, and when the girls asked why Katy answered with a reference about some Winter Soldier’s raccoon eyes neither woman understood.

“Alright, here are your armor and weapon disks.” As Katy spoke, she handed the girls each item as the name was said. “Find a place to hide them, but also someplace you can easily touch the button to activate them.”

“So not prison style, then?” Layla smirked at her joke, laughing a little when Katy blushed a little awkwardly.

“No! You weirdo,” she shook her head, hitting Layla’s arm playfully. “Put them where they need to be, and we’ll head out.” And that they did. Horas was the driver to the castle while all three ladies sat in the back seat. As they approached the castle they made last minute preparations., which would’ve happened even if they had years to plan in advance. When they pulled in the gate, Kate was admiring the large home. “This will be your home by the end of the night, Kate,” Katy whispered, a hand on the woman’s shoulder and squeezing gently.

“Am I ready for this?” Kate whispered, having yet another moment of worry. It was natural to be nervous when performing a coup d'etat.

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if you weren’t,” Katy smiled, pulling away as the car parked. Katy glanced over the two before Horas opened the door and helped her out of the car and her tone became serious. It was time for their plan to be put into action, there would be no going back. “Don’t let your guard down for anyone but each other, and even then someone may be nearby. You have your armor as well, yes?”

“Of course, M’Lady,” Horas gave a kind smile as he spoke, hoping the guards didn’t hear the conversation.

Next was Kate to step out, then Layla. All three women walked in with guards escorting them, just like Katy had said would happen. They were then escorted into the ballroom where chatter was thrown all around. The king sat high on his throne, observing until the festivities began. Kate’s eyes darkened from blue to green in anger with sight of the man on the throne, knowing that he was the man that killed her mother. Her blood boiled and her fists clenched, but she somehow managed to keep a smile on her face as everyone looked at the three women. Her hunter instincts told her to end it now, before something bad happened, but her head told her to listen to Katy, and wait for her signal.

Katy was dragged off to talk with one man who was obviously interested while Kate and Layla were pulled into a woman’s group to talk about fashion and the latest gossip. They had to pass time until the sun went down, which thankfully wouldn’t take too long. Kate and Layla had been introduced to five other women and were just about to hear about how Jane (who was absent at the moment of course) had just married her fifth husband. They also learned that all of her previous husbands had died under mysterious circumstances after Jane had been with them between two and five years. Without sufficient evidence no one has been able to pin the deaths on Jane and somehow the fifth husband still married her even after knowing her suspicious past. The tale ended with the rumor that the husband was recently sick when Jane found out she was pregnant, and then suddenly the husband was fine weeks later. The woman of the group gossiped that either Jane was after the money each man had, as they were fairly wealthy, or she was just looking for someone to give her a child.

Kate wasn’t sure what to think but Layla was fairly certain the woman was after the money but with the pregnancy Jane must’ve felt guilty for endangering the life of her future child’s father that she cured him of whatever ailment he had. The women of the group nodded at Layla’s theory, seriously considering the idea.

The darkness in the sky finally started to settle in and then it was the time for the plan to begin. Layla and Kate excused themselves from the lovely gossip group and began their part of the plan. They were to draw the kings attention and curiosity, while Katy went to set up the barrier disks for her own distraction to come. When done and Katy signaled her, Kate was to press the button on her remote device she had tucked away, so that only a few guards, the king, and the girls would be stuck in the ballroom. But they still had to get everyone else out; Katy had to cause a distraction. What better way to do that than with an explosion?

“Might I have this dance, young lady?” King Vortigern bowed his head ever-so slightly as he approached Kate, holding his hand out for her to take.

Kate almost jumped when he spoke, not even noticing him walk up to her. “Um, of course your highness,” she forced a smile as she spoke. Her skin crawled with disgust as she took the man’s hand, letting her lead her to the dance floor. Luckily, Katy and Layla could hear the conversation in case assistance was needed, but at the time, Katy was finding the perfect place to plant the bomb.

“Fantastic,” the king smiled wickedly.

Kate knew he had to be up to something, she could feel it in her gut. Vortigern wore a black, medieval style outfit, like something you’d see on Game of Thrones, with a deep purple undershirt. His crown was golden decorated with amethyst and lapis lazuli, a strange combo that somehow worked for someone of his darkness.

“So, young lady, how come I’ve never seen you here before?”

“Oh, I just moved here with a couple friends, your highness.” Kate spun to the beat of the song, Vortigern bringing her back to the regular dancing position. “We figured this would be a good place to come meet the people we might be working with in the future.”

The king hummed as he listened to her talk. He asked a few more questions but the song started to come to an end, which was Katy’s cue to head back to the ballroom. “Well, it was certainly lovely to dance with you-” the song began it’s finishing beat as Vortigern dipped Kate, leaning close to her ear, and she could feel his hot breath on her skin, “ - Princess.”

“Shit,” Katy mumbled as the whispered word came over the comm, time to cause a scene. She ran through the hall as lady like as she could, screaming as she set off the detonation rather than signaling Kate. “Explosion! Everyone evacuate!”

The king and Kate both looked in the direction of Katy, the young girl smirking. Before Vortigern had a chance to drop her, Kate pushed herself away from him, activating the barriers once all the civilians were out. “Took you long enough,” she scolded Katy who only chuckled and shrugged, obviously she wasn’t intimidated at all. Kate sighed, before standing next to Layla and Katy. “How’d you know it was me? ‘Your highness’?” she mocked the king’s title, slightly rolling her eyes as she said it.

“Because, my dear girl. You have your mothers eyes. And it was the same look she had before I cut her head off and put it on a pike, like I’ll be doing with you,” he snarled, drawing his blade, which activated his armor to cover his body, his guards doing the same. Currently it was about 11 to 3, counting the king.

Kate growled, activating her own armor and weapons, Layla and Katy following suit. “I won’t allow it, you bastard!” And with that, the two parties charged, an audience behind the barrier watching the scene. They were no longer concerned for the explosions that had stopped, and there was no fire so no one was in any immediate danger.

Layla used her speed to her advantage, running a couple men through with her sword, licking the blood off to scare the shit out of the next guy. “You cut a piece of my hair, asshole,” she growled, rushing toward the next guy and throwing him against the barrier, which electrocuted him when he made contact.

Nine guards remained and the audience took a step back from the barrier, now knowing what it did.

“You’re just a kid! And you think you can defeat one of the king’s right-hand men?” a guard laughed as he went for Katy, who seemingly disappeared as he charged her.

“Oh? Well, maybe-” the guard turned around to face her. Her sword was sheathed and her wings were out, her green eyes now a blood-red, “-you should do some reading on history!” Katy grabbed his collar, flying through the roof and tossing him as far as she could, which was to the ocean on the other side of the mountain. There was no way the man would survive hitting the water a few hundred miles per hour.

Eight.

Katy lowered herself to the ground and another guard came after her, whom she easily blocked. It ended up being a distraction as a second guard came behind, digging his sword in her wing, and the woman shouted in pain. Grabbing the neck of the man in front of her, her eyes turned to black as she growled at the guard behind her, slamming him against the barrier with the same wing he had stabbed. The man in her grasp was gasping for air, but she didn’t loosen her grip one bit. “It’s rude to attack a young, defenseless woman like that,” she smirked as she spoke, dropping him to the ground and thrusting her blade into his chest.

Six.

“You okay?” Layla approached Katy with caution, worried she might slap her with one of her wings. “Want me to pull that out?”

“Please, I can’t reach,” the young girl chuckled half heartedly, groaning as Layla pulled out the blade. Katy sighed, putting her wings back to allow it to heal.

“Since when did you get wings?”

“Since always. Let's focus on the task at hand,” Katy said as Layla snapped a man’s neck.

Five.

Kate’s attention was focused on Vortigern, keeping his attention on her and away from the others as they took out his men, which seemed gracefully easy for them.

“So, you have the goddess on your side, I see. Wouldn’t that be considered cheating?” Vortigern commented, a sly smirk on his face as their swords clashed.

“You let your guard down,” Kate swept her foot under his, tripping him onto his back and instantly positioning her blade at his chest. “That can get you killed,” she smirked.

The man wasted no time before kicking her in the chest, the woman groaning as she stumbled back onto one knee, using her sword for support as she caught her breath. “And you let the small moment get to your head. Which can also get you killed, you insolent fool,” Vortigern remarked, standing and walking towards Kate. One of his men flew into him and knocked him to the ground.

Kate laughed, looking to her friend who was pretending to dust off her hands. “Nice timing!” she cheered.

“You’re welcome,” Layla winked in return before heading back to business.

Four.

Kate turned to Vortigern. “Did that hurt, your highness?” Kate mocked, a hand on her chest like she was worried. “Because I sure hope it did,” she chuckled, stretching her arms a little.

“Shut up, you idiot! I’m just getting started,” he informed as he pushed off the body and stood to his feet, preparing himself for the fight again.

“I was sure hoping you’d say that.” Kate charged the man, their blades clashing over and over again, the two disregarding the fighting going on behind them.

Clink, clink, clink.

Kate growled as Vortigern tried to slice her head off, ducking under the blade only to receive a knee to the chest. Pain flared through her as the wind was knocked from her lungs and Kate gasped as she took a step back. She took a breath and charged once more, sidestepping the punch and sword aimed at where she was only a moment ago. Vortigern grinned madly as he kept hacking away, no clear target in mind except for her head, which Kate used to her advantage. With one swift uppercut she sent the man stumbling back and she followed suit with another punch to the face.

One man left standing. King Vortigern.

Katy and Layla slowly circled the two from a distance, but Kate seemed to be the only person who noticed. Vortigern was too obsessed with trying to hack off Kate’s head, it made his slices sloppier and easier to calculate. The King and Kate were beginning to tire, but thanks to the training Kate had, along with her age, she had the upper hand. One last strike - clink - and the king’s sword was across the room. Surprisingly, Kate was able to roundhouse kick the king to his knees, her armor doing nothing to hinder the movement.

“Damn!” Layla and Katy exclaimed in unison, along with the crowd on the other side of the barrier.

Layla saw her chance, and quickly got behind the King, restraining the man by holding his arms behind his back. “You’ve been beaten. How’s it feel?” she whispered to him, the man just glared at her then back to Kate who stood in front of him.

Kate panted, readying her sword. “Here’s a taste of your own medicine,” she growled mercilessly, but her sword was stopped mid swing. The woman looked to her side to find Katy was the one who stopped it, a stern look on her face. “What the hell, Katy? Isn’t this what we’re here for?”

Katy shook her head, looking at the dozens of citizens behind the barrier. “Yes, but our main goal was to get your throne back, which you’ve done.”

“But we also came to kill the bastard! Why’d you stop me?”

“Because you need to think logically!” Katy barked back. “You need to think about how you want your people to see you. Then make your decision.”

Kate was quiet, and she knew the girl had a point. The surrounding area became clear and Kate could feel the eyes of dozens of hundreds of people upon her, all waiting to see what she would do to their dethroned king. Suddenly the weight of the whole situation was on her shoulders, and it intimidated her. She had to think rationally, level-headed. If she was going to take her place on the throne, she’d have to handle any type of intimidation thrown at her. Within moments, she had come to her decision. “I hear you, Katy, But I can’t allow him to go free, or even be in prison. He could make plans to escape and take the throne again.”

Katy smiled a little, it seemed like Kate had made the choice Katy was hoping she would, or so she assumed. And with that, Katy turned and pressed a button and the barriers fell as Kate dug her sword into Vortigern’s chest. The choking sound made Katy turn around in surprise as Kate pulled her sword out and sheathing it. Their audience slowly crowded around them and all three of the girls’ armor returned to disk form. Much to Kate’s surprise, the crowd clapped and kneeled before their rightful queen, a couple people starting a small chant for her, one which Katy and Layla gladly joined in on.

The next couple weeks consisted of repairs, re-decorating, and Kate getting used to all the queenly stuff. Towards the end of those weeks, Kate had stumbled onto a text from Dean to Layla. To be fair her phone was left unattended.

“I’m working on getting Sam better. Be back soon,” it read.

Kate froze, dropping the phone onto Layla’s desk. Her heart thudded madly against her chest as her wide eyes stared at nothing. Trembling, she glanced down and read the message once more. And then again. A drop suddenly appeared on the desks surface and Kate jerked in surprise, reaching a trembling hand up to feel the tears streaming down her face. She wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad at the news that Sam was alive. She was crying so that meant she was happy, didn’t it? But what was that other feeling?

Then it came to her. She was ticked off that Layla, and she assumed Katy, knew that Sam was alive, and didn’t tell her. No, scratch that, she wasn’t ticked off. Kate was fucking livid. The tears dried and Kate slowly felt heat envelop her as her anger was directed at Layla and Katy.

Rushing out of Layla’s new office, Kate made her way to Katy’s office, fury in her eyes and movements. “Did you know?” she shouted as she approached the girl. Katy looked a little shocked at the question, but then her expression turned sad and resigned. That was all Kate needed to see to know the answer, “You knew Sam was alive and you didn’t tell me? How could you!”

“Kate I can explain,” Katy put her hands up in defense as she stood from her chair. “Sam… isn’t the same, right now. Dean is making sure he gets better, then he’ll bring him to Othos.”

Katy tried to explain how Sam had come back soulless but Kate was having none of it, too focused on the fact that neither of her friends trusted her with the information.

“Nonetheless, you didn’t tell me!”

“And for that, I’m truly sorry-”

“I want you to leave. I’ll let you know when you can come back,” Kate crossed her arms as she spoke. It broke her that her friends had lied to her for weeks now, but she stood her ground in telling one to leave. She’d figure out what to do with Layla in a moment.

Katy smiled halfheartedly, nodding before bowing her head. “Your majesty,” was the last thing she spoke before walking out of Kate’s life for who-knows-how-long.

Later that day, Kate had met up with Layla, who told her the whole story; causing the rest of the week to be tense. Sam had been soulless for a time and when he had his soul back, he’d been hallucinating Lucifer who tortured him relentlessly. And it wasn’t until Death put up a blockade in his mind that Sam returned to a relatively normal state. The two barely talked during meal times and Kate avoided Layla whenever possible. When the two were required to be in the same room they barely acknowledged one another.

Days after that week, Layla was running down the halls, her short heels clicking on the floor with each step. “Kate!” she exclaimed as she busted through the queen’s office door. The woman sitting down jumped at the sound, eyes widening for a moment until she saw it was just Layla, “I have good news.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Kate’s tone was condescending as she spoke, returning to the paperwork she had been working on for the entire week.

Layla sighed at her friend’s response. She knew her decision would hurt Kate, but she was hoping her friend would have forgiven her at least a little bit. “Sam and Dean are on their way to the castle.”

Kate’s head instantly lifted, her eyes brighter than they had been for weeks. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Then let's hurry!” excitement laced her voice as she pushed herself away from the desk and out of her chair, both women running down the halls, Layla keeping pace with Katy. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Dean hadn’t updated me until now, I would have told you if he did.”

“Your Majesty? What’s happened?” Horas asked, rushing after the women as they ran by the room he was in.

“Nothing bad, Horas! Just important people are on their way!” she called, continuing her path down the stairs. A step or two was skipped for the sake of saving time.

Two men were guarding the doors on the inside, and two men guarding the doors outside, even from here the girls could hear commotion outside, “Your Majesty! You need an escort-”

“Oh hush and open the doors!”

Immediately , the guards opened the doors to reveal the two men outside keeping Sam and Dean away from the doors.

“Let them be! They’re our partners,” Kate told the men who instantly went wide-eyed, bowing to the boys.

Dean smirked at the sight of the guards bowing for him, humming in delight as he scratched his chin. “I could get used to this,” he mumbled lightly, and Layla laughed at the joke.

“Oh get your head out of the clouds, Winchester,” Layla chuckled, wrapping her arms around Dean’s neck and pulling him into a kiss, which he gladly returned.

Kate’s eyes met Sam’s, and she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore as she ran into his arms, the tall moose wrapping her in a hug. “I thought I had lost you forever, Sam,” she cried into his chest, finally looking up at him.

Sam smiled softly at the woman, wiping her tears away as she looked up at him. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m here now, though,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing her gently as he cupped her face in his hands, a feeling both of them had missed. When they pulled away, he kept his arms around her as he looked at the castle. “Quite a home you got here.”

“It’s not just my home.” Kate smiled at Sam, glancing to her friends then back to him. “It’s our home.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Sam smirked, reaching for something in his pockets as Kate looked at him in confusion. Sam then got on one knee, opening a little box with a ring in it. Kate chuckled, covering her face as she began to cry again, “So, Kate Morgan, will you marry me and allow me to be your king?”

“Of course you big dork,” she answered, moving her hands away from her face as she spoke. Sam smiled and stood up, slipping the ring on her finger. Kate quickly pulled the man into a kiss, whispering: “I love you,” on his lips.

Within the next year, Dean and Layla had gotten Bobby to move to Othos as well, and Chuck/God brought back Sam and Dean’s parents, who also moved to Othos. It’d taken them a long time to get used to everything around them, but both were happy at the life their sons led. Sam and Kate got married and so did Dean and Layla. Castiel often visited to understand human beings more, which everyone found humorous but respected him for the decision. He was the only angel trying to do so, after all. Chuck later on explained he made a small mistake with Castiel, which was incidentally why he never truly fit in, and it led to the eventual creation of mankind. Dean and Layla teased him relentlessly for being the first human. Oh, and Sam and Kate had a daughter.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Well that took a little while! I couldn’t get Minecraftian to help me for the longest time XD who knew people need breaks from torture. Anyway! She has been recharged! Yay! XD hope y’all like the chapter! I know I sure did XD

~ K-The-Queen

I ain’t recharged, as anyone can see by… well how long it took me to figure out what to say. My brain is burnt out but what else is new? Anyway, hope you all enjoyed!

~ Minecraftian1213

#supernatural #fandom quest #throne #castle #armor #high tech #fanfic #fan fiction #sam winchester #dean winchester

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piratekenway · 7 years

Note

Oooh, can I have hamdevil AU? I don't care what just anything for it. (Though I would love to see Matt and Hamilton fighting some issue out, with words)

haha OKAY. this is more “Hamilton gets rescued by Daredevil a few times and there’s ship tease” in general, whoops.

title: careful how you proceed

–

“I swear to fucking God, Mur–Daredevil,” says Alexander, “if you don’t put me down right now I am going to kick your ass all the way back to the office, just you watch me.”

Matt, underneath the mask, has the nerve to smile. Well, of course he can, it’s not like Alexander can follow up on that threat when Matt’s got him in his arms, and under normal circumstances, Alexander would be somewhat appreciative of Matt’s arms. But these aren’t normal circumstances.

“Your back might give out,” Matt says.

“Unlike you, I don’t do that parkour ninja bullshit,” says Alexander. “Also, fuck you, my back is fine.”

“I can hear it creaking, actually,” Matt mildly says.

“Your ass,” says Alexander, “the office.”

Somewhere behind them, a–well, Alexander’s not actually sure, and he peers over Matt’s shoulder to check–a guy in, hand to God, frog-themed armor is hopping after them on the ground. There are springs on his feet. His–webbed feet.

Sometimes Alexander loves the 21st century, and all the advances made since 1804 that have enabled more freedom than Alexander could’ve ever dreamed of.

Then sometimes it pulls shit like this.

“Why the hell do you get the lamest supervillains?” he asks.

“You should ask Parker about the White Rabbit sometime,” says Matt, casually, as he runs over a very thin catwalk and oh god Alexander’s just not going to look down. If he looks down, he’s pretty sure he’s going to have a heart attack and die again on the spot, and he’d much rather go out in either a blaze of glory or in bed.

The blaze of glory’s preferred.

“The what now?” he asks, keeping his eyes on Matt’s face.

“She threw rabid bunnies at him once,” says Matt.

Alexander gapes at him. Then: “So she saw too much Monty Python?”

“I knew letting Foggy show you Monty Python and the Holy Grail was a terrible idea,” Matt gripes.

–

A. Hamilton @adothamit’s official, this election is wilder than the 1800 elections #thatssayingsomething http://wapo.st/1QtUQmM

A. Hamilton @adotham@foreversherlocked SINCE YOU ASKED FOR EXAMPLES: TJeffs did not discuss dick size in a presscon (1/?)

A. Hamilton @adothamthe GOP’s newest embarrassment can’t even #talkless #burrisrollinginhisgrave (2/?)

–

A. Hamilton @adothamand half my feed and two of my coworkers have started referring to @tedcruz as a serial killer #explain (21/?)

–

A. Hamilton @adothamso IN CONCLUSION the monkeys have taken over the zoo aka the GOP, best election ever (48/48)

Casey W @foreversherlockedis it just me or is @adotham the guy who’s been writing to the Post under a Latin pen name #theanswerisyes

–

MATT:that explains the increase in rocks through your windowplease find better aliases alex

A. HAM:whats wrong with favonius

MATT:it sounds latindidnt you write under latin pen names all the timefind something less obvious

A. HAM:says the actual DAREDEVILalso i am hurt that you think i just pick names because they “sound latin”wikipedia is right there

MATT:blame the bulletin for that name i didnt choose itand also48 tweets?really??

A. HAM:i was aiming for 51 but then i got put in twitter jailalso you dont have a twitter how do you know that

MATT:you forget foggy and karen follow youthey were telling me the whole thingstop flooding karens feed she says she will actually murder you

A. HAM:nah she wouldntshe loves me

MATT:she says “try me”

–

The second time Alexander finds himself in Matt’s rather well-toned arms, it’s after someone decides to kidnap somebody connected to Nelson & Murdock to Send A Message. He’s sort of glad it’s not Karen they kidnapped, but then again, Karen once maced a guy because he put his hand on her thigh.

At the same time, though, it’s a blow to his pride that they picked him and not, y’know, the other two lawyers hanging around.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you liked playing damsel in distress,” Matt teases.

Alexander glares blearily up at him. He’s not sure what drug they got him with that everything’s still kind of hazy and blurry. He’s going to kick his kidnappers’ ass. Just as soon as he can stand. “Fuck you too, Daredevil,” he tells Matt. “Get me out of here so we can sue their faces off.”

Behind them, someone yells something in–well, Alexander’s not sure, but it’s definitely not a language he knows. Matt ducks just behind a crate, and Alexander hears a crack of a gunshot, sees something splinter beside them.

“You know,” Alexander says, “back in my day, lawyers didn’t get kidnapped and shot at. That, you saved for the actual war.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the 21st century,” says Matt, laying Alexander down next to a crate and pulling his sticks out. “We’re big on equality here.” He cocks his head to the side, as if listening to something, then says, “You gonna be okay?”

“I survived the revolution and getting shot in the shoulder,” says Alexander, sitting up straight and wincing, because fuck damn but everything’s still spinning, kind of. “I can damn well survive your idea of a rescue. Which sucks, by the way.”

“It’s getting you out, isn’t it?” says Matt, with a cocky grin, and then he’s off.

Alexander leans his head against the crate, breathes in and out, and murmurs, “You better come out of this fight alive, Murdock, or Foggy’ll kill me.”

–

They come out of it alive.

Karen hugs Alexander so tightly he eventually has to break away in order to just breathe. Foggy hugs Matt–well, not that tightly, the guy needs his ribs, after all.

“Thanks, by the way,” says Alexander, once his scrapes and bruises have been attended to.

“I thought you didn’t like my idea of a rescue,” says Matt, holding an ice pack to his head. “You said it sucked.”

“I stand by what I said,” says Alexander, sitting down next to him and hissing softly at the jolt of pain through his side, now the drug’s worn off. “Every bit of it. But you got us out, and I’m grateful for that.”

Matt’s gaze doesn’t quite lock on him–instead, they’re focused on a spot somewhere to the right of Alexander. Months of working in close quarters with Matthew Murdock, but this is the first time, Alexander realizes, that he’s really had the opportunity to look closely at his eyes.

In this light, they look kind of hazel. They’re–pretty, Alexander thinks, and he can see why Foggy accuses Matt of somehow drawing all the girls to him.

The silence stretches on just a beat too long, before Matt grins, cocks his head to the side, says, “That mean I get a kiss?”

“I take it back,” Alexander says, shoving lightly at his shoulder. “Next time I get kidnapped, I want Spider-man to rescue me, ‘cause you’re a dick.”

–

After the case is won, the first thing that happens is that Foggy drags all of them out to Josie’s for an overdue thank fucking God you’re not dead party. They’ve been having that regularly, lately, and Alexander keeps finding himself as the designated Responsible One, but not tonight.

“I’m just–” he starts, then stops. “I’m just, look, I’m just sayin’–the world-buildin’ doesn’t make sense, at least in the prequels I knew why the Republic was a goddamn mess–”

“Tone it down,” Matt tells him. For once in his life, he’s the Responsible One, because Alexander’s hell-bent on getting blind (heh!) stinking drunk, because he deserves it after being kidnapped by mafia nutjobs looking to send a message.

For, like, the third time in as many months.

“The prequels were terrible,” says Foggy, three sheets to the wind. “I love you Alex but you are so wrong.”

“Hell no I’m not,” Alexander says. “Look, the script was shitty and the romance was shoehorned in, but goddammit you could see where the Republic was going wrong and how and why the Empire rose, okay–”

“Because there was a Sith Lord in charge and he engineered a war, which would’ve been convincing if he wasn’t so obviously evil–why would anyone trust him–”

“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout how convincing Palpatine was, I’m talkin’ ‘bout how he engineered the fall of the Republic and the Jedi by exploiting the flaws in both, flaws that could’ve easily been fixed–”

“Okay, okay,” says Karen, manicured fingers plucking the bottle of whiskey from Alexander’s grip, “I think I’ve heard enough. And I think you guys have had enough, if you’re arguing about Star Wars.”

“You’re a Trekkie, Karen, you don’t get it,” Foggy tells her. “And one day we shall tempt you to the Dark Side, with our–with our cookies! And our lightsabers. Lightsabers, Karen.”

“Or I’ll tempt you to the Federation,” Karen shoots back, grinning.

“Never!”

“Dorks,” Alexander stage-whispers to Matt, who gives a small huff of laughter, ducking his head, mouth stretching upwards in an actual smile. “Hey, look who’s smiling!”

“I smile plenty,” Matt argues. “Anyway, Karen’s right. You’re both very, very drunk, and we should be getting you home.”

“Aww, Matt,” Foggy groans.

“Matt’s right, we’re going to get you home before either of you puke on someone,” says Karen, hauling Foggy to his feet despite his protests of it was one time. “I’ll take Foggy, you take Alex?”

“That’ll be hilarious,” says Matt, with a laugh. “The blind guy leading the drunk guy down the street.”

“May I remind you of the parkour ninja bullshit you pull off on a regular basis, Matthew goddamn Murdock?” Alexander says.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Matt innocently says, and Alexander shoves at his shoulder. Or, well, tries to–he manages to shove at Matt’s face instead. Well, now he remembers why he doesn’t usually drink this much–his hand-eye coordination is shot to shit. He won’t be doing any writing tonight. “All right, come on, up.”

“I’m up, I’m up,” Alexander says, as Matt hauls him up. If he leans a little on Matt, that’s only because everything’s spinning and he needs some support, nothing more.

–

alcxhamms:guys guys GUYS

i think i just saw a dot ham and the murdock half of n&m stumbling drunkenly down the street and i am not sure how i managed not to squeal like a pig but like

they were

really

like ham had his arm around murdock and you know that #lams moment during the grammys that SET ME ON FIRE

it was exactly like that

#i was p far away so i couldn’t really tell what they were talking about but like #at one point ham was LOOKING INTO HIS EYES (and the sky’s the limit) #or like looking into his shades #my point is #they were VERY CLOSE and i was very close to dying right then and there #i’m going straight to hell

–

“Hey, hey, watch out–pothole–”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Alexander, sidestepping and pulling Matt along with him. They look, frankly, ridiculous, swaying back and forth like a newborn giraffe, but Alexander doesn’t care. “Hey, Matt. Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“You gotta do this more often,” he says. “Taking a break.”

Matt huffs out a laugh, says, “That’s rich coming from you. You write like you’re running out of time.”

“Half the time with you assholes, I am running out of time,” Alexander says. “But also, I don’t show up to work bruised all to hell and back, like I went fifteen rounds with a seriously pissed off Hessian.”

“Ten,” says Matt. “And there were two of them.”

“See, when you say shit like that, I get worried,” Alexander says, grabbing hold of Matt’s shoulders to face him. “You’re an asshole, and your idea of a rescue sucks, but you’re my friend. You go down somehow–get arrested or get killed, whichever–and what do you think will happen?”

“You, Foggy, and Karen continue the good work Nelson & Murdock’s been doing,” says Matt.

“No, you’d break our hearts–and also possibly fuck us all over because of all the laws we’re breaking–but that aside,” says Alexander, stepping in closer before Matt can say something else, “that aside, asshole, it’s your name following Foggy’s on the sign. You’re important to us. And you’re important to me.”

“Huh,” says Matt, “you really are drunk, if you’re coming right out with that.”

“I am being heartfelt here,” Alexander tells him. “You were one of my very first friends when I got here. You’re a goddamn liar and you’re shit at doing it, somehow, but you’re my friend. You know how hard it is for me to keep those, and I want to keep you.”

“Foggy and Karen?”

“I wanna keep them too,” says Alexander, “but they’re sensible, they don’t go out every night to punch people in the face. You do.” He lets out a breath and says, softly, “Go out with us. Not all the time, but–sometimes. Let the city keep for a night, let the police do what they’re supposed to do for a night. Take a break.”

“Said the pot to the kettle,” says Matt.

“The pot’s not punching criminals in the face every night,” says Alexander.

“The kettle’s not mouthing off to gangsters and crime lords in the courtroom,” says Matt. “Not often, anyway.”

“I told Foggy not to tell you about that time!” Alexander says, with a huff. “Also you are distracting me. You always distract me.”

“Not always,” Matt argues, a corner of his mouth quirking upwards in a smile. Alexander wonders, suddenly, if Matt can hear his heartbeat speeding up, as if he’s a maiden on her wedding night. “I imagine it takes a lot to distract you.”

“You’re right,” says Alexander, relieved for the out. Then he ruins it by adding: “But you make it look easy. See, you’re doin’ it now, giving me that look, being all sly and coy–Matt.”

Matt covers his mouth up and coughs unconvincingly. “What look?” he says.

“That look! With your eyes! And your smile!” Alexander plants a hand on Matt’s face for emphasis, nearly sends the both of them toppling into an alley. “Now I’ve lost track of what I was talking about, you dick,” he complains, as Matt rights them both. “Where was I–oh, yeah, take a goddamn break, Murdock.”

“And when was the last time you did?” says Matt.

“Fuck you,” Alexander says, “do not make this about me.”

“I was not!” says Matt, holding one hand up, as if he’s swearing on the Bible before a court of law. “Hand to God, on my honor as a Catholic lawyer.”

“You beat people up at night,” says Alexander.

“On my honor as a Catholic lawyer vigilante,” Matt amends, which is hardly any better in Alexander’s opinion. “Seriously, Alex, your work ethic is intense enough that it scares me, sometimes. How do you find the time to do everything you’re doing?”

“I have a day planner,” says Alexander.

“Liar, I heard your heartbeat,” says Matt.

“Heartbeat detectors can be unreliable,” says Alexander, and Matt huffs out a breath and shoves lightly at him. “Ow! Dammit, Murdock, I’m almost fifty–”

“You are fifty,” says Matt.

“Almost,” Alexander stresses. “Anyway, I took a break this very night, so, ha.”

“Before tonight,” says Matt.

“Last Friday,” says Alexander. He pauses, searches through his memory for a second, then says, “Wait, was last Friday the 13th, or–”

“You’re thinking last month,” says Matt, holding him up. He turns his head just as they pass underneath a streetlight, and for a moment it’s as if Matt has been crowned with a halo of fire and thorns, burning brightly against the dark, an avenging angel come to render judgment. Or a vengeful demon, come to do some bloody work.

“Oh,” says Alexander.

Then Matt cocks his head to the side, says, “So I think this is your stop, I can smell your neighbors from here,” and he’s just plain old Matt again.

Oh, thinks Alexander, heart breaking again, because he has been down this road before, seen how men like avenging angels seeking freedom and justice come to violent ends, loved them so much it hurt to fall, fuck.

–

MATT:hey you up

A. HAM:i am in pain and someone needs to turn the fucking sun offits too bright im gonna die

MATT:i did tell you not to try for the eel yesterday nightremember anything about last night

A. HAM:god i dont knoweverythings blurry after foggy dared me to drink that last shotuuuuugh

MATT:if it helps he cant remember anything eitheryoull be pleased to know i managed to get you home without punching anyone in the face

A. HAM:holy shit its a miraclesomeone call the vatican

MATT:youre hilarious

–

The next time Alexander finds himself at Mepkin Abbey, sitting at Laurens’ grave, he lays a bouquet of white lilies at the headstone, then sets a half-drained bottle of wine upright next to it.

“My dear Laurens,” says Alexander, “I think–no, I know I fucked up.” He lets out a long breath, runs a hand through his hair, and says, “Have I told you about Matthew Murdock?”

–

end.

#prettybirdy979 #hamdevil #asks #you ask and i write #this took so long i am so sorry

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